2494 3 3
|
'Tis a cruel season. I have nothing and no means to order anything. Nobody to shop for and nobody to buy things for me. But the catalogues keep coming. And these catalogues don't bring out the best in me. The catalogues switch on what I call my want switc
|
249462
|
His hands fumble over my curves like he’s petting his golden retriever. He wears in inexperience on his face like I wear my mascara.
|
24932423
|
That evening I sat and watched the sunset. The color of the water changed from blue to black. The sky turned from pink to star-spangled ebony. There was no moon.
|
2493256
|
He inhaled all these sensory impulses like they were so much illuminated, fluorescent pollen which jostled for space with the strong aroma of coffee in his nostrils.
|
249287
|
On a visit, Jesus sees bracelets with WWJD. What does that mean? he asks. What Would Jesus Do? they respond. I wouldn’t wear that, he says.
|
2492239
|
Fred, who by that point had already wanted to call Jimmy "Jim," talked a river. Jimmy, who had already called her Freddy, took a mojo bag from his back pants pocket and asked her to write something that he could put inside.
|
249285
|
I read the last line and close the book with a smack. “That ends that section,” I tell him. “Coming up is the chapter titled ‘The Ancient History of the Sewers of Paris.'
|
249232
|
We fucked in the backseat like the verse of a b-side, and that was enough to make him think my boys were half of his body.
|
249143
|
I’ve paid my dues in this dimension/
so show me where the rest of them are
|
24903324
|
No one explained triumph
would feel like this.
|
2490179
|
I want you to kiss me like you’re listening to my tongue. I want you to hear the rhythm of my heart through my lips. Can you feel what I’m telling you? If you’re entering my borders, it doesn’t matter where - my mouth, my pussy, my ear... you’d better pay
|
2490118
|
|
248999
|
Frisbee dog. Stealth the cat. Read more. Cut toenails. Less wine. Bind the ties. Avoid mirrors. Divide water.
|
248920
|
Hanging was back and thriving - twice a week at half seven in the evening.
|
248874
|
|
248811
|
The Sentinels held up their weapons at the main door, preparing for a fight. Lori saw the look on the girl’s eyes, something she felt she should not see in them.
|
248892
|
spreading gilded pages with a tlickt
|
248800
|
She saw mana from the pendant floating to her chest and its resonance pulsed with her heart, yet it felt empty. Unaware of what she had done, she reached out to it, thought of a name, and called for it.
|
248721
|
-No, just drugged, I remind myself. The hallucinations are more real, more accurate than before. While the dreams get more nightmarish, the hallucinations get more nostalgic. I prefer the nightmares. No one knows if this treatment will work, but what bett
|
24871211
|
fun fact: a doll's legs will twitch
while being scalped
but only for just a little bit
|
248696
|
The Lorelei is my sherris ; Ibibio shall not want. Head count maketh me to lie down in green patchwork: Head count leadeth me beside the still watercress. Head count restoreth my sounding: Head count leadeth me in the pathway of Rig Veda for his Namen…
|
248640
|
The large black pedals on the red/Tricycle rotate, push along the cracked,/Weedy surface.
|
2485149
|
She doesn't even know who wears the Adam's apple in this house.
|
248594
|
I think that I write toward death and to stave off death and to remember the dead and to address what is dead in me.
|
24841914
|
Co-polar order spectrum; strobe genre (the disco light of the 70s illumining and eclipsing fiction-non-fiction-non in one "article"); UTAH! a jump from forehead-down to standing fast, a cheer, for genre studies.
|
24841711
|
(Insert poignant line here)
|
24842717
|
Oh what fun they had riding that bike! What adventures! They went everywhere, in town and out.
|
248453
|
leave a trail of potential weapons dropped from your shaking hands. you must always make it easy for him to follow.
|
248333
|
Two friends follow the train tracks by their neighborhood.
|
248383
|
My resistance sublimates. There is a long instant of absolute relinquishment, in which I imagine droplets of water plinking into my lungs in a slow, musical fashion, like icicles melting in a perfect cave.
|
