138 12 6
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It was spring. All the villagers had gone mad. Every single one had become an unreliable narrator and no one had any idea what the truth actually was. Leonard decided it was best to lock himself in the house and order clothes,…
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1381710
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“The wound is the place where the light enters you…”- JALAL AD-DIN RUMIFollowing my lithium poisoning by my doctor, I went into a delirium, a vortex of darkness of losing myself sucked into a swirling black hole of space, no language, no way to communicate,…
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13544
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cherubs blow their bugles, dye their hair an unnatural green, fart until no cows come home.
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13542
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13593
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The oranges are dreaming that they have turned to apples.
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13576
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13554
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This is not about you Although you are stone cold and sexy
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13473
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I will never waste my sick time on my own sicknesses unless I am in a coma.
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13454
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He gets her voicemail.
Maureen calls back.
“Where are you, Tom? I hear cars.”
Where is he? Here he is. Cars, yes, and sidewalk, stores, faces topping bodies. Night again. A bad place. He sees a park – an empty set of swings and troughs of
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13462
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Who better to return to at the end of the day? Can't wait to get home. Empty my pockets and wash my hands. Who better to lift a glass at the start of dinner? …
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133176
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132188
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Dinosaurs, a little boy, a hapless mother and mortality.
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131107
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Molly was a fanatical Flash Fictioneer, devoted to her miniature art form, the bonsai of literature, the tiny tales popularly known as flash fiction. She filled an entire blog with daily entries of the stuff. She came to flash…
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13154
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it rained so hard it flooded our tent and our sleeping bags were floating
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13161
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I wear my Whittier College mascot-logo-inscribed ballcap: FEAR THE POETS. On Lovers Point I write haiku. A man and woman picnic —— he never off his cell phone. I approach and hand her my poem. They depart without exchanging a word… or a look. man and…
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13065
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13031
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Pass frame.Avert eyes.If Ido look,I'm stillnot there.
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12975
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"Why didn't they just elevate the drug levels and kill her off like that?"
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12921
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George Herbert, poet and Anglican priest, died of tuberulosis in 1633 at age 40. His friends described his last three weeks in sickbed, attended to by them and members of his family. They recorded his words: "I now look back on the pleasures of my life past, and see in…
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12843
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Overheard from the back seat of car:
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128138
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128133
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12895
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I was working on my dissertation that summer, and I took a part-time job doing psychological testing in a poor public school system. The town would send me around to different elementary schools to test their most troubled children, or, rather,…
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12875
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I listen to my psychotherapy patients complain about their lives all day. Bitterly, hopelessly. I listen for little openings that offer possibilities for changing perspective and feeling weller. But my five minutes between each session, whether it includes a bathroom or…
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128127
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12811
|
Doris LessingWasn´t messingAbout or wingingIt when she wrote The Grass Is Singing
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128149
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the only safe place for him was anywhere he and Barkley could huddle,
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12688
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My grandmother and her children spent six weeks living in barns, then were taken for a three day nightmare ride in hot cattle cars to Auschwitz.
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125158
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12553
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‘Your writing is terrible,’ she said triumphantly, and there was silence. I wanted to say, no Tara, that’s too much, he needs this – working terrible jobs for years, forever, always feeling the discrepancy between his middle-class childhood and his hand-
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