1959 11 6
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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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19591911
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No snippet to see, here. The piece is so short a snippet would be the whole thing.
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19591311
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She sits and waitsOn a chair that is hardWith a neck that hurtsAnd an eyeball that stings.She sitsSo stiffOn a chair that is hardWith a neck that hurtsAnd an eyeball that stings.She sitsAnd the hand on her lapHas a joint that cracksWith a neck that hurtsAnd an eyeball that…
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1959178
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I kiss his sunburned nose, so nice under the beach house. We hear the shower of palm leaves like wings getting ready. We talk about a time we'll no longer know each other, when he'll be sad in a bar in another state, slipping and sliding and petting lost dogs in the parking…
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1959116
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You haven't lived until she dances just for you ..
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195874
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She began guiding Penny’s arms, whispering movements through her body. Memory and experience sang through every fiber of their being. The song had become her life.
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1958119
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19582912
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Night fell and the photographer slept, one hand between Prue's legs.
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195899
|
What if I said;
I never liked actually reading?
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1958105
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The waters rose / on the earth
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1958101
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Do you want an ass mi Nina Bonita? I buy you jeans that work like a Miracle Bra for your behind.
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1958153
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He stopped the shower and recounted his life, now Kin-less and plain.
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195820
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One day they will take what remains of my eyes so someone else can use them to see beauty, someone who will value them more than I have, someone who will be strong enough to keep them pointed away from ugly things.
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1957123
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....sees the beginning of a new day through the closed shutters, hears the guard washing up at the sink, feels the beginning of a cry in his throat.
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1957209
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My mother’s old china no longer reflects. It’s value is now estimated as drywall.
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1957128
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The blue Victorian at 1145 White Street shifts in its foundation, creaks, and settles in for the night. The girls are bundled into their beds. My wife, too, has gone to sleep. I’m alone in the kitchen, steeping chamomile tea, coughing phlegm into the wr
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195762
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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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195700
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The stupid suit made me look like an angel, which I hated. I wasn't here to save anyone's soul, not that any of the native animal life HAD a soul. If I have a soul myself, it is most likely in need of salvation, and in no way should I be cast in the rol
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195750
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Besides, that might have been the area of his birth, and if so, Jacob was now the director, priest, pallbearer, driver, and custodian of a hometown funeral
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19561611
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Poor souls. Likely they'll be poets.
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1956149
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i stained his hockey sheets
right over the red wings
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1956144
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"What I need to wear the ring for," I said to myself, "I already got his last name..."
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1956911
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The understanding we made was neatly wrapped up in its own blue tissue cocoon like a neatly rolled joint and dumped unceremoniously into the forgotten past like a plate of leftover digitized lies. The lid was slammed shut. Time passes too tightly. And you …
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195631
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You never knew How to express What you didn't know You felt With your words You picked on You taunted You destroyed Did it help To feel yourself Did it work To disparage Those who were Innocent and young Blameless For living …
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195610
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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.
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195688
|
The trouble began in October, when Ava, an embittered receptionist who worked at a small museum housed in a five-story Westside brownstone, discovered that the floors were littered with enormous grey feathers
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195673
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“There are no inhibitions in here,” the postman shouted, gesturing at the dance floor with his Marlboro Light, the glowing tip aimed at a woman in a taut skirt. Leaning far forward, her hands nearly touching the plywood floor, she planted her feet and beg
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1956164
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Somewhere along tomorrow, I will forget I have the right to do this.
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19563626
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I watch my mother and my daughter, each wondering in her own quiet way about where this story will go next.
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195500
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Casting nets like Jesus to a metaphor sea
Admittedly as weak as me
But I need the hike,
Like we still like Ike
To tell us about the Military Industrial Complex
Though he never told us what came next
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