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They tell me I’m crazy. I say I’m just keeping up.
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213677
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Hold your breathThe smoke here is thick, I knowIce underfoot, let it burn, let it go, but don't ask me to take your handYou have never been so patient as to sit and waiteven for the sun to riseWatch, now, here it comescresting over the hill as one large eyeboiling the…
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213641
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----- Original Message ----- From :< brokengopher@hotmail.com> to: Sent: Friday, January 19, 2007 9:15 PM Subject: The Bob Fosse Dream Dawn, Last night I had this dream that I was going through Bob Fosse's things. NowI don't know…
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I want nothing to do with anyone,
other than doing nothing with you.
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Pussy’s eyes narrowed, her dark, luxurious fur quivering on her back. “How can you say such a thing! It’s not true.”
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2136109
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Marcy is two years older and got her period the summer before me. She thinks she’s a professor of everything, but she’s my best friend so I don’t say she’s being stupid or that her tangerine lipstick is smeared across her front teeth.
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Night's air awhirl, the sky shoots fireflies.
Sometimes, she bleeds black arrows in her dreams.
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213555
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The story will starve. It will crawl up your throat to get the cracker.
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You, the correct Other, the one I am looking for, you have exacting standards concerning where things must go.
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21352418
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If you’re not dead yet, you’ll die of something.
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21352616
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So, we are all healthy but suffering financially, not equally so, and the tendency to suffer financially has been caused by humbling ourselves to particular men. We take a quiz in moral values, phrased as a party game.
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Just a little shop girl in for the summer. Working on a typewriter. Barely knowing where the keys were. That was her. She was terrible at it. He was in a suit. He looked short, and thin, but something about him was captivating. He was in his own way hands
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Valeria never whistled. Nor did she approve of people who did. One thing she had learned in her sixty-seven years was that people who whistled were crass. Butchers whistled. So did peasants.
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A crone dressed in black pours liquid from a bottle onto the egg. Whiskey. Gasp! The egg cooks before our eyes!
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2135125
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I wanted to watch, for as long as I could, until my innocence, like balloons, disappeared from view.
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I fired God today. He wasn't showing up for work, slept through meetings, wrote ambiguous memos and killed too many innocents. Things just weren't working out.
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“Later,” I say to the frisky crickets, verbal cash of the eggnog spa, spot of gum…
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It was days before Parker and I could even get up the nerve to look in each others' direction at the cafe. We kept trying to avoid the other's glance. But after a time things began to soften between us. I could sense it the day the tension began to eas
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213364
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When Quince came rolling up into my front yard that morning, we were up to our neck in August, staring down a seventh-grade year that had crept perilously close when we weren’t looking. I’m thirty-five years clear of it now, and I can still sense Texas on
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No one means to go that way, on an errand to the mall....
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The diner was half filled with the loose ends of humanity that stayed up until five in the morning. We picked a booth by the window. The light in the diner was a dingy yellow, and the seats were that lobster-red vinyl that could only have been installe
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Sometimes he made us punch pillows. "Harder!" the shrink would yell.
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I've been struck with a bout of writer's block, struggling to get pen to page or finger to keyboard....So I make paper airplanes.
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Someone who I know only via Facebook and a writer site we both belong to posted a picture of a 12 week old fetus in the palm of a human hand. The message was anti-abortion. You know--how can you consider killing this baby? And the picture was of a tiny, tiny…
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In reenactments of the pressing to death of Giles Corey, Walter’s friends stacked pillows onto his chest while he defied his inquisitors.
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oh, sure i’m still running around like a heads-up/off/prophet/profit/fit trying to cut off my very own de/(con)instruction and all other sordid a•void•able & available /a-Babel-Trumpish towers of post & toastmodern doom/daze/haze
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213240
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Sitting at an outside table at the Bassett Café
on West Broadway, I remember, in the background
always the Twin Towers behind me
in the photographs from that time
And the sparrows in New York, bolder than anywhere
working over the scrap
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About halfway through reading some book that was supposed to be some really deep shit, I decided to write my own book instead.
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2132127
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Another thing about Dysthymia is how I get locked into a thought, a needle in a record of a song I can’t get out of my head, a song that drives me crazy until I hear it again, until I play it just the amount of times to where my brain is satisfied.
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Her father stuffed years worth of stories into the phone, a sort of begging: how the new dog rode in the golf cart and retrieved lost Pinnacles; how the garage’s rent was too expensive; how the doctor gave him new pills and how he had lost weight and cu
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