2184 10 5
|
I scare my daughter when she sleeps because she thinks I'm going to kill her.
|
21842712
|
Borges must be so proud somewhere
|
218400
|
Alysia slowed down for a moment. She clutched her head again. She looked up and found herself at a playground. There was a familiarity in the air.
|
21841616
|
There's a mirror in front of me and I thought it was so I could see myself, but I didn't want to see me.
|
218410
|
I am wearing stolen socks. Not because I haven't any of my own, and not because they are an exact fit. Only because they soothe my emptiness inside.
|
21841614
|
The psychiatrist was a man who clearly meant to calm his patients, the students. You could tell by his sweater and his neatly combed, plumy hair and the wire-rim glasses he wore. But he was not good at his job. You could tell this by how bad he was at cal
|
218486
|
no one else comes in my back door but you
|
2183108
|
"good luck, and be assured acceptance for representation or publication is based on different criteria at different agencies and we are sure you will yet find someone mentally deficient enough to give your book a shot."
|
218385
|
I ask for your patience with this form message, as it is part of a system that ensures
every submissive ex lover is considered separately, since I am involved in a lot of anonymous sex.
|
2183128
|
She was a beautiful woman. I don't argue with that. I welcome it.
|
2183169
|
Sometimes you can't sleep.
|
2183133
|
The two were huddled in a corner of an alley, joined by some others that I’m sure wandered into the darkness when they realized they were far from alone. That alley was the one off Market Street. I used to steal candy from the corner shop when I was nin
|
218341
|
“There’s cheap land at Cudlee Creek perfect for breeding long-haired rabbits,” he added. “They can’t jump high so fencing costs are low.”
|
218393
|
I love how you touch me, your hands warm on my shape...
|
21831712
|
Conceptio culpa
Nasci pena
Labor vita
Necesse mori
|
2182122
|
...a blunt thrust of a face, uncongenial in profile, and the ubiquitous green cap that says John Deere, with the yellow ideogram of a deer for graduates of our local schools.
|
218273
|
My favorite was a red bowler, a man's hat, which I never dared wear outside my tiny bedroom. My three brothers wanted it too much to take that kind of a risk. They'd poke me with various sharp objects: the serrated edge of the bread knife, the rusted TV
|
218200
|
Alysia stopped for a moment. She knew what she was going to say, but held back her words and thoughts. Chisame took advantage of her hesitance.
|
218241
|
Approaching the kitchen from the foyer the reverb lessened until heel and floor where flint on flint. No spark was made.
|
218234
|
Out the window is an empty birdbath, dry flaky concrete ring, no birds.
|
218284
|
... we both know how we go to fresh air like fish, gasping.
|
21821313
|
Talking about a Friend Over a Cup or Two of Coffee “Their first fight was over school lunches. Free school lunches. She taught Kindergarten in a public special ed center for emotionally disturbed children. The…
|
2182114
|
I sink until water saturates my lashes, waiting, breathless, for the words to stop.
|
218142
|
Here’s the story as compiled from the scantest of clues: The writing on the back of a stall door in the restroom of a twenty-four hour restaurant under the Gowanus Expressway.
|
2181255
|
" Not a day goes by/ that isn't stabbed with common sorrow"--Maurice Manning Crazy's alright by me if it's a harmless plea for some little sanity, or unavoidable by birth but it just won't do for tricks. Like say I go over there right…
|
218180
|
The trainers looked at her and smiled and they were still one creature with four legs and two heads. The old man’s left eye moved in sync with the younger one’s right eye.
|
218144
|
Eventually, all the windows on the street went dark, each small house cloaking its occupants in a world unto itself, soundproofed and emotionally remote.
|
2181104
|
"I sighed heavily. 'Goddamn it...' I spat under my breath. 'Every motherfucking time..."
|
21811210
|
The coffins pile up gnawing dust on the glass panes to the rims of my binoculars. Shadowy cracks of stifling proportions, gliding over my eyes a requiem of mahogany. At dawn they heave between the workers’ hands, leave their resting places for a green tra
|
218161
|
I can feel the souls
of those who perished
here
They’re still here
like old kites
hanging in the sky
tattered, but they
won’t come down
or can’t come down
just yet
because they haven’t
fulfilled their
unborn promises
t
|
