2257 9 5
|
Acknowledge that your primary creative ambition until this point has been to think of a plausible word for male-lover-friend that is not overly significant or obsolete like husband and boyfriend.
|
225552
|
There was that time he decided to avoid the whole situation by getting off the bus early.
|
22551813
|
But tonight the circus is dark. She is free to go to her lover, to embrace, to float in the night sky.
|
225585
|
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.'
|
22551811
|
Last Christmas Eve, my Nana shot my grandfather in the foot because he wouldn't stop boning the woman up the street. So on Christmas Eve, after Nana drank a bunch of those baby-sized Miller Hi-life beers, she went upstairs, got her pistol, and said, “I'm gonna…
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22541711
|
(Insert poignant line here)
|
225493
|
I used to sneak away to my bedroom to write. I would get away any chance I could to jot down on paper my stories, my ideas, the rich stream of goodness that sprang from my little baby creative brain. It was pure joy.
|
225444
|
When Charlie woke up he couldn’t find his inner Charlie.
|
225461
|
Holly Hope had met Latest Girlfriend once and was
pleased to see that the woman wore stylish dresses, even if
the end results looked like Liz Claiborne had tried to clothe
a cigarette machine.
|
225396
|
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…
|
2253196
|
She's at an artist colony in the state of Virginia. She's in her studio. She should be writing. That's what everybody thinks she's doing out here. Why else would she be in her studio alone at 3:00 a.m.? But there's an interloper. A new painter? Sculptor? Maybe he…
|
225232
|
Homegirl wanted someone to love her so much they could suicide together.
|
225246
|
Her husband goes hard on her. No blushes--he goes hard all over, not just in the assumed area. He could have Blip! disappeared instead, how would his wife have liked that? He has to make a choice, his captors are waiting, they don't have time, that is to…
|
225162
|
But only to watch the boys squelched over and over — only to suffer the longing of a life I will never live with them while in the nunnery of honey.
|
225043
|
I’ve paid my dues in this dimension/
so show me where the rest of them are
|
22503324
|
No one explained triumph
would feel like this.
|
225000
|
She found herself standing before a mirror, her body was not in the reflection. A pulse shot out of the glass and her heart matched its resonance.
|
224900
|
My half-brother Salvy laughs each time we meet here at the hospital to visit our father Phil, who has lung cancer. He laughs because Phil married my mother, not his. He laughs at my job in Valhalla, the final resting place for those who lose at the…
|
22481515
|
for Bill YarrowPoetry is a way of breathingagainst the enemy's chest withoutlosing consciousness again. Itis a ghost dance. Poetry is tobe determined by the plight of bees.Poetry is a waterfall ona mailing list. I've never tasteda finer whiskey than poetry.Poetry is half…
|
2248118
|
|
22482617
|
My wife tells me I should marry Pam. “She would be good for you,” she says.
|
224863
|
… in truth I am not waiting, but also flying in my soul to meet her, a journey that has taken me across the span of my own lifetime and the gulf of that same mysteriously mapped universe.
|
224820
|
A surreal conversation in a library hints at something else.
|
224721
|
-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
|
224720
|
You surprised me then, / climbing onto my finger: / climbing into my heart. / Your long, cobalt body felt weightless on my hand.
|
22471613
|
The boy giggled, splashing his father and howling at the cold.
|
224564
|
Our banter has shifted, like wading from the shallow to the deep end. He taps his foot. “Your underwear reminded me of my grandma’s underwear.”
|
224551
|
Do you want social justice! Do you want a good and fair world!
|
2244179
|
I don't know what happened to all the men. Used to wonder if they killed them all.
|
224482
|
On an October day in 1909 Mrs. Prudence O'Kannady, industrious wife of Mr. Joseph Patrick O'Kannady of Corn Falls, Nebraska, discovered, while sorting clothing for the wash, in the pocket of a set of dungarees belonging to her youngest son Rufus, a tiny human head. When…
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