1884 8 6
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On top of the refrigerator is a small wooden box
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Cap'n Pepper tries and tries but Old Salty is never happy.
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For some, a vertical pattern will evoke prison bars, for others, product bar codes.
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Morpheus dreams… […fairground atmosphere burlesque hand-operated steam organs calliopes cut and spliced reversed harmonium kaleidoscopic grotesque waltzing carousel…] PABLO FANQUE'S CIRCUS ROYAL Grandest Night of the Season! and positively the LAST NIGHT BUT THREE! being…
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pluck me from the charred grate
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Gyan Ban Thoughts - This post is about aspiring models.Scores of these dreams get killed everyday under the arc lights. Exploitation is rampant and millions of cases go unreported.This story is of one such incident.
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Dear Bess —
I go to the First Assembly of God's church. (a Praising Spirit-Filled Fellowship.) It is in Maui. Dr. James Morocco, Senior Pastor. He has been pastoring the church for over twenty years.
My, what a big change I am finding in my new l
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I never killed a cop before.
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At dinner in Marrakech, Namid danced on the table, waving a white napkin, propelled by jetlag and poor judgment.
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Just bring me his head, that cerebral kiln of hot, ruddy verbiage and cadence.
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An Ayurvedic astrologer tells her that she is a child of India. Is a girl born in Indiana a mistake of just two letters on a Scrabble board?
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That was before Cohen died. Castro died. Castro Died should be a title by Samuel Beckett. Once I nearly went out to buy a bass clarinet just for the purpose of playing along with Leonard Cohen.
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the observation, at the end, more/
important than the being there—
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How curious that the thought arrived first in Portuguese; perhaps, after so many years, he was finally becoming Brazilian.
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Jasmine invited herself over and plopped herself on my futon. "Let's fuck," she said, bluntly. "I want to."
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Oh, you can’t stay, your poetry/
Is still out in the world, maybe when you die/Your volumes will make their way/Not just here but
everywhere
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"kissing her with every muscle in my neck."
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The throw was the last leg of a triple play.
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her: what are you worried about? me: the dog sitter.
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Why can't you mimic your mythical counterpart? Anna Karenina? Have you never considered the tall dark stranger? The boot to the face, the fangs on the neck? Vronsky is Russian Gentry, a veritable prince and he swept that Anna off her feet in two sec
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188021
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...I told Uncle Lou I thought it (trans-gendering) looked like a thoughtful way of occupying the world. It was a personal triumph, for some individuals, over the destructive affects of denial. Besides, it hurt no one, and it didn’t destroy property. I alw
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He held my little hand in his and guided it through the dirt.
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188021
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Fate could have sent me any number of Sergeant-Detectives, but fate sent me one of Boston’s finest, Sergeant-Detective Sheila Magnuson. Aside from being a little undernourished Sheila Magnuson is possibly the world’s most beautiful Sergeant-Detective.
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The storm grew in might until it spawned the worst kind of tornado, an F-5 or Finger of God.
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Erwin came into the kitchen through the back door and went straight to the sink to clean up. Black mud and dried blood crusted his fingertips and caked the callused whorls of his knuckles. He used the round of strong-smelling soap he kept for…
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Picking up a perfect stranger—perfect meaning dead, in this case—and shaping him into the man you’d want him to be is not so easy.
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Angelina Jolie, seducer of Brad Pitt, tattooed mother of rescued orphans, and the unlikely daughter of Jon Voight who broke Billy Bob Thornton's heart, is only two blocks from me, in a travel trailer on Seventh Street, gently rousing herself from sleep.
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When we lived in the attic we were make-believe.
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