1951 6 2
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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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19513626
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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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195022
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“You wouldn't believe it.” Peter leaned in to whisper. “Don’t let the Kodak moment with the wife and kids fool you. That guy is totally gay.”
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19502713
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This is not a story you expect to end at Cape Horn.
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1950123
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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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195063
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Cap'n Pepper tries and tries but Old Salty is never happy.
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19501613
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I am a purveyor of leeches. All my
friends are purveyors of leeches.
We meet weekly to compare our wares.
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1950116
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You haven't lived until she dances just for you ..
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194933
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A joust. A tournament. A playing field. ¶ Hmm . . .
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194974
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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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194962
|
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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1949117
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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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1949206
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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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1949209
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My mother’s old china no longer reflects. It’s value is now estimated as drywall.
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1949128
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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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19481611
|
Poor souls. Likely they'll be poets.
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1948105
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I scare my daughter when she sleeps because she thinks I'm going to kill her.
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1948126
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We go in gently at first, skimming over the first few swells and dropping speed, but then we pitch hard, tail over. The windshield holds. I think of Lily. I think of the baby. And I see my life.
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1948137
|
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194810
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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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194710
|
For Hector it was animals. Rats, dogs, fish, and quite often horses – sometimes even lions. But for Achilles, it was always dead bodies.
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194742
|
I know I know how many times you want me to tell you I’m sorry, okay?
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19471911
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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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19471311
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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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1947105
|
The waters rose / on the earth
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194788
|
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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194773
|
“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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1947148
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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…
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194642
|
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.
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194600
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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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