2111 14 8
|
once she went to quenchthen she went to scrubnow she collects dead toadsgrinds them with cornmeal to feed her sowsonce she ploughed the land toiled with her face deep in dark soil her back burning in hot sunnow she works in the paper millmaking laminated labels for the…
|
211175
|
Pow! I shoot him through his jelly donut.
|
211031
|
A canister of unused laughter taken from the mouth of a baby not yet born
A splinter of wood from a cross, perfectly preserved in dark tea
taken from the belly of a dead Irishman
A milky vial of smog taken from the air of Los Angeles circa 1965
A
|
211092
|
"There's a concert next month," Sherry said. "Why don't you come to that and I'll introduce you? Then we can go from there."
|
2110138
|
I had been in bed for a couple of days and by this I mean sleeping for fifteen or sixteen hours at a time. I don’t think that I believed in God anymore. I no longer knew how to stay awake.
|
21091611
|
Poor souls. Likely they'll be poets.
|
210964
|
I put my arms around her and whisper to her while she plays the piano. She wiggles and tells me to stop it.
|
210943
|
What you may see initially could be only half the poem. The rest is hidden.
|
210972
|
There were a lot of advantages to having shoelaces.
|
210911
|
you wear the warmth of death/
and your heat eternity/
blasts on mourn from your heart
|
210910
|
Before I was 18 years old, in my small home town of Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, Canada, I invented the designer jean...
|
2108109
|
I was a disposable disaster at first, a thousand Light years ago. We sail the seas we're given, and Like all of you I did my best to survive , but that doesn't mean we get To survive it like you. Our course may have blown us Completely…
|
2108119
|
They kiss, opening their mouths into a smile, sharing a secret. Their kiss is so intimate. I blush, and look away embarrassed and a little aroused.
|
210798
|
Turns out it was you. But. You made it into the latest dumping ground in spite of their voted insults. In spite of being told you weren't even going to be around to be danced with. The loneliest girl now looks perfectly trim and trendy to all eyes.…
|
210776
|
His toenails were so long they curled under and into the black leathery pads of his feet. They lightly clacked on our linoleum, tap shoes made of thick petrified roots. He didn't seem to mind.
|
21072314
|
Henry yells at her when she lights cigarettes and candles. But this is her small secret ritual, her way of making good with the god she is no longer sure she believes in...
|
210710
|
Forever
Implies
To my recycled soul
That it is achievable
If only I stretch myself
Towards it
|
210720
|
A black wind raced ahead of the Merbreth and Juko could smell the thing's fur, matted with the blood of men. The coppery scent mingled with the fear coming off the men around him, a fear so palpable it became a tangible thing, something to be tripped over
|
21062713
|
This is not a story you expect to end at Cape Horn.
|
210661
|
Puberty, for Ellen, was less than an overnight event—yes, she got her period in a more or less timely fashion, but what her doctor referred to coolly as secondary sexual characteristics—namely, boobs—took their damned sweet time in coming.
|
210620
|
She spilled her neurons across the dissecting board of the violin, breathed deep and forced herself outward with every exhalation. Her molecules mixed with wax and horsehair, and her heart valves arched in unison.
|
210600
|
I, personally, just had no interest in having some pimply-faced moron stick his tongue down my throat.
|
21061313
|
Go ahead, boy, pout like a fool.
|
210686
|
Len and I sit on Harpo's porch, drink beer and gab. It's hot, even for July. Len and I joke and laugh, and Harpo stares off into the middle distance.
|
21062618
|
sooner or later you realize
|
210693
|
I love how you touch me, your hands warm on my shape...
|
210532
|
|
210522
|
That's when we struggle, got it? Right there on the floor. It's not the brawl of the century, and I'm not the pilot who delivers the Enola Gay.
|
21053017
|
It was a surprise they put me in a dormitory, not a cell,
|
210501
|
#1 MISCELLANEOUS NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR:
What kind of person would the author’s daughter, Gracie, become? That things didn’t look bright for her future was an understatement: Mother: alcoholic, dead at age 25 from puking her brains out; Father: m
|
