1967 5 5
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196721
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poon fred / loop ilo/ bussy yubb tree
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196711
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A 1960’s of walking sugar beet fields to remove the rogue bolters by hand and on other days painting the ironwork of cattle sheds with red oxide. Then a 1970’s when the self-inking explosion of tattoos on his hands and then his body began.
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196753
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She wants her mother back and all I can give her is this—over and over. She doesn't want my mouth, wants no kissing anywhere even. Just this. Like this—quiet and rough. Quiet because her stepfather is napping in the bedroom next to…
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196721
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... red lipstick shiny in the bar's light, raven-colored hair spiky and toussled. Jen opened her mouth to say something, stickiness of her cherry Chapstick separating with her lips ... and the girl leaned in and started kissing her.
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196642
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Dale of the threadbare corduroy blazer and the same two plaid button-down shirts, of the unkempt beard and short-shorn hair and holed ears, the plugs overloose and then lost so that the effect was not a toughening edginess, but deformity, the same self-in
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19661617
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what smells like love may not be love at all
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196662
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No, she hated the vain, overweight, pathetic, glass-of-merlot-a-day, SUV piloting, Carmen-cell-phone-ring-toned, housewives and consumer sluts that charged through the store like starving hyenas through the fallen, decaying, putrid, corpses of a plague-ri
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196622
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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.
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196641
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Approaching the kitchen from the foyer the reverb lessened until heel and floor where flint on flint. No spark was made.
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19661310
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I talk wands and magic and how women aren't supposed to care,
but I do, and she talks length and girth.
Her fiancé has neither,
she makes an illustration with her pinky
and says that if they don't marry within the year,
she's dumping his ass
and we
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196642
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When you finally got blood from the hard stick
You spotted the backflash of red
And said Thank God. The woman’s legs and arms
Were everywhere, and you were in the middle
Holding her down with one hand while wielding
A butterfly in the other. You stuc
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19661614
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Snow sheeted on the river...
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196531
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I have never met Joe’s brother, of course.
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19652320
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There's always a sound, something triggering the fear.
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196554
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You can’t take a chandelier on an emergency dash across a nuclear desert.
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196543
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...I grew up in a provincial town which at the time had no bookstore and no library — no library even at school...
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1965117
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He was her summer fling, the first cock to crow when the sun rose over her tequila smile.
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19642713
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This is not a story you expect to end at Cape Horn.
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196433
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196471
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In a few brief moments the entire sky became full of this wetness and greyed to the point of almost blackening, and it was a Sunday morning, and the man thought that thoughts were strange things, because he had a piercing epiphany that there was no God..
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1963119
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196399
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What if I said;
I never liked actually reading?
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1963117
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When I got out I didn't buy a new suit of clothes, step into a bar, or bargain for an hour with a whore.
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196300
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At night, on these New England roads, there is no light, no pink sodium-vapor glow, no guideposts.
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1963206
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The book has known many women’s hands, something erotic and frequently checked out from our local library. Its cover depicts a man and a woman, both with improbable if not impossible bodies. I believe the term is bodice-ripper.
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196273
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His wings were down when he got into the truck. It was a used UPS truck we’d bought from someone in Berkeley, and we painted out the letter “S,” so that it just read “UP.”
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1962116
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The voices he hears are God and the Devil and he knows the difference. Therefore, he is not mentally ill.
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19621010
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Bob’s thoughts drift back to bird, the solitary creature in the field, dignified, unhurried, waiting. Bob wonders where he goes; surely he will move on when spring gives way to summer.
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196262
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You longed to rip off her butterfly wings and watch her scream in agony. You ached to carve the steel from her eyes.
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