196 3 3
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I wonder if he talks about Hockney to othersor if he just does that with me?And what if I wanted to just brush black circular motions like a long playing vinyl record onto a canvas as I listen to Happiness Is A Warm Gun? And what of it?Do you think…
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19695
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19632
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The routine was this: after getting off from the job at Carpet World in the Bear Run Shopping Center off of I-95, Stephen would wait for Dink to pick him up in his mother's honda. Then they would drive around for a while, usually on the less trafficked ro
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19520
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Μayday΄s evening, Sabbath of all witches : the moon, Earth΄s faithful sister, sends her light to illuminate the way as the great Grain Μother, Walpurga the Sky God΄s maiden lover transubstantiated now within the dolly as the Spirit of the Harvest animating…
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1951713
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So then we had to worry about the Russian soldiers. When they heard we were Jewish, they said “How come the Germans didn’t kill all of you?”
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194139
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19121
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he strides with noble purposefulness along the crazy paving
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19100
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In the weeks that followed she told haunted stories...reaching out to touch her reflection and finding it clammy, a summer of unending menstrual thunder, a year she spent somewhere safe with polished metal mirrors.
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19022
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I didn't have the words. Something about how he looked in that moment: elderly and frail, a tiny square speck of shaving cream I'd just noticed on his jawline, and his mouth set in the same soft shape of hurt that I'd seen it in years ago---the best I co
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189127
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If Simpkin believed in reincarnation, which he did not, as he was a philosopher, not a religious fanatic, he might have thought he was Boringer reincarnated.
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1881411
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One week until the exhibition and only half the paintings were done. This was how Axel worked best, with a gun to his head.
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18895
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18673
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The only promotion I can do. Excerpts from the most recent book.
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183125
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Frankly, I would rather die than have my diary published. Now that everyone in the whole world knows Anne’s deepest secrets, I’m sure she would want to kill herself anyway.
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1791212
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My eyes filled with tears when it entered my throat
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17521
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Contrasts of tempo and timbre counterpoint of rhythm and dynamics complicated passages that interweave drifting aerial melodic linestextural, layered the subsuming of the soloing individualist to the collective beauty, the ideal of the gamelan. Then…
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174108
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17442
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Naked, laughing hard, laughing full into the moonlit void, she stepped out from the stone
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1732115
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where teenage mothers sat in the waiting room feeding babies from bottles filled with Coca-Cola and Group 13 was filled with the unluckiest women in the world.
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17277
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We fly in first-class on Piggy Bank's dime, arriving at eight o'clock on Friday morning. The limousine driver with chestnut skin holds up a sign with our names on it. We drink single malt scotch from crystal glasses as New Orleans jaunts past…
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17211
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And so is home.And so is cash.And so is bird.But that is neitherhere nor therebecause it is always flying.And so is nest.And so is gate.And so is shut.And if you add an sto three letter wordsyou get dogsand cats and kidsand so is pies because you have to…
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1712120
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16894
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16754
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I was never a gypsy.We came grounded with a purpose.The sun set the same as where we came from.And from there we moved and moved neverfinding a place to really call our own althoughwe turned Miami into a foreign country wherethe first language is and always will be…
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16611
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Once upon a time,
In a dark green forest,
A wise woman gave advice to all comers.
'Of course life is thus,' she said,
'If it wasn’t I’d know.'
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16600
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And the worse thing was that despite all her misgivings, she found herself getting in deeper and deeper. She wasn't pulling away. She wasn't keeping things casual. She wasn't doing the loathsome though necessary work of demonstrating that there existe
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16322
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You were the prize.
He was the sudden wedge.
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16321
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...how he wished the will to live...
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16233
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Milosk had lived in the hills above Stari Vlah a long time, and while he did not care much for political matters, he knew the men were heroes of the state and deserved what Milosk could provide for them...
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1602410
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Once upon a time I was definitely a writer. I told tales everywhere and even wrote them down. Every one was a fabrication woven around a morsel of truth. Many accused me of putting them in my tales and ruining their reputations.…
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