1732 0 0
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Tombstones are only granite symbols of a man’s life, Gus thought as he changed lanes. Children, they were the ultimate epitaph.
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173294
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History is replete with brutally imaginative techniques of torture and execution, but I am the only death machine that doubles as a musical instrument.
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173299
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I don't think dogs like to die with the pack.
The smell of them rotting brings trouble in the wild,
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1731137
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A team of reggae journalists played and an unknown man came after work for me in a kilt.
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1731105
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It’s a bitch of a day, devious. It started out calm and then those monsoon showers hit. The lads legged it back to the vans for a bit of a warm sup. He was going to follow them. The rain machine-gunned the window.
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17311613
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Write a poem in which your father is a dog and you are his leash.
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1731109
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We watch the news together every day.
10 minutes total; flashes of tragedy broken up with fluffy current events.
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173143
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…Professor Wumbat begins.
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17311711
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She drew her hands out of the chest cavity and looked at the clock.
‘Time of death,’ she said.
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173153
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The summer everyone read Faulkner, I read Hemingway. Out of spite.
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173133
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Portions of my heart and bones
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173122
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Wee-wee-sweet-pea me? I live, I weep, a third of me passed in sleep, start a scene or two, play and dance the fool, …
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17311713
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I lean forward and take her two hands in mine. I look into her eyes. “It’s you and only you,” I say. She starts to cry.
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17301312
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He introduced me to key lime pie, and for this alone I would have loved him forever. It was an innocent time for me, and I was easy to please.
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173080
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What can I say about my brother, Stroman. We are twins and we hate each other. He is an honest, brave man with scruples. He is full of bullshit. He thinks I am morally twisted. He probably has a point there, but I don’t see what that has got to do with
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173011
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This is the story of my friend, Gil
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173000
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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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17302113
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17301613
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no one likes a bitchy cowboyhike up yer britchespull yer brim down'nshut up and ridestop making petsout of peevesand idolsout of gossipinsteadmake a hobbyout of yer horseand fer godsakesseason that saddle
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173032
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“You wanna fight.”
And I say yes.
And he says –
“First, we gotta make out.”
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173000
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August 14
I remember the smell of fresh air. The feeling of clean air in your lungs. I haven't had that feeling in quite some time now. I guess few people have.
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17302114
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I don't want / to write about the body indulged, desires / denied, tortures invented, pleasures innate
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17301712
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Conceptio culpa
Nasci pena
Labor vita
Necesse mori
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17291611
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Poor souls. Likely they'll be poets.
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1729175
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I try to help my pet-mouse by dangling cheese from a piece of string in front of him. Or by making meow sounds. Sometimes, my pet-mouse wins, sometimes the hamster with the great body.
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172911
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They say ehmand for almond in the San Joaquin Valley.
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172955
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It seems the people of this house were a happy family – The smiling faces, the children’s enthusiasm tells me as much. I wonder what happened to them.
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172942
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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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172986
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Len and I sit on Harpo's porch, drink beer and gab. It's hot, even for July. Len and I joke and laugh, and Harpo stares off into the middle distance.
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172963
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"Hattie? What are you doing?" Bosley asked, the quaver in his voice an indication of an impending erection.
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