2267 6 7
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The doorbell rang while Ron was masturbating.He closed his eyes tight. Tried to hold the image of Lori bent over the arm of the couch. No use. It was gone. Ron sighed, then levered the recliner down. Tied on the terry-cloth robe Lori had given him. He kicked aside an empty…
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226785
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Albert Walks When Albert walks he is astonished. Ripe fruit falls to the ground at his feet, offering itself. The earth's tremor rumbles, celebratory, through his mended shoes and up his shins. The birds darting through the sky above …
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22672514
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And you know that notion just goes to show...
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22662019
|
if we stare into the dark long
enough, we see ourselves at some end or
beginning –
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226610
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"Isn't it time to remove the nails, and put Jesus to rest once and for all," Mary asks.
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2266135
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“The price of everything's gone up,” I say. “But I don't have to buy you chocolate if it's costing too much.” She says nothing and bends her head again, gnarled hands slowly breaking a family-sized chocolate block into pieces.
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226611
|
You are fishing in a coffee cup. (Your fishing pole is a record player.)
|
22662117
|
There is a tall and leafy tree in our backyard. Also a bride, a groom, and a chicken.
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226695
|
You are lonely. Let me tell you about the smell of the rain.
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22651410
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. . . and the last thing you’ll smell will be new-cut pine.
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226566
|
The light, oblique and waning, filters through butcher’s paper to reveal a body suspended in death but never decomposing.
|
226511
|
And here I am again.
I chew my nails. I tap my foot. I chew my nails. I sweat. I bleed. My nose bleeds. It drips. I drip. I'm dripping through my chair.
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226542
|
You like your life. Ducks march in a row. You've reached a certain age but you're strong. Healthy. You've got food, clothing, shelter. You have insurance and important papers. You don't have a man in your life, and you admit— Admit nothing. The…
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226453
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“I take him to see all those sexy movies,” she said, “because it puts the passion back in him. I love what he does to me when we get back home after those movies.”
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2264118
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You’re the girl that would sneak out to poetry readings instead of parties, watching fierce semi-bearded men reading their poems from hand-stapled zines.
|
226411
|
Let's be honest. Ugly people have an uphill battle in this culture. From the time they slide out of their ugly mothers they stand at the plate with two strikes.
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226371
|
In Nebraska, we found a dead man lying between the furrows of a field. He’d been there awhile in the heat and the sun, the only shade provided by a cloud of flies. The dead man lay on the ground, decaying, disappearing into the dirt:
|
22631614
|
ornery women / in tall hats, suspender dads, kids deformed with / ribbons
|
226345
|
All night the moon had watched him, and he’d been unable to return its stare. Finally there was sunlight, and Joško took up his rifle and rucksack. He had trouble keeping his balance at first, but gradually his legs steadied.
|
22632422
|
But I came back around, after Robert Kennedy got shot, with one hand up your skirt and the other on the gear shift...
|
226331
|
Dear Mom, You told me the connection between a mother and her son is like no other connection. You carried me for nine months. You scheduled visits with the doctor; you thought and discussed and re-thought and re-discussed with dad what my name would be; you…
|
226341
|
His body echoed in the mirror/
cracked into distant images
|
2262103
|
Several friends—hers and his—hung around the edges of their marriage, and it would be naive to rule out the possibility of a few stray affairs. The thought didn’t anger him; on the contrary it amused him as if it were some trivia question, the answe
|
226263
|
I slide my hand under the sheets. It’s cool there. An impression. This is where she would be.
|
226221
|
In the blue of the yard the twins boil and scrape,
twisting about beneath the sycamore tree.
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226185
|
That bottle just sits there in the closet, next to the hats and a box full of old gloves. Years it’s been there. Try as we might, we never open it. We just don’t have a damn thing to celebrate. Who was it brought that bottle into our lives and went and ruined …
|
22611512
|
This is the best kind of crime scene.
Spattered like gore from gunshots,
I'm left covered in trace evidence.
|
226185
|
You may gather from me
the spring of my youth
|
2261125
|
by Bobbie Ann Mason and Meg Pokrass
at The Nervous Breakdown website:
http://www.thenervousbreakdown.com/mpokrass/2012/10/tweeting-war-and-peace-with-bobbie-ann-mason/
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2261175
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I turn my head. Time starts running.
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