1817 10 9
|
The winner was some kid from Ohio or Oklahoma -- one of those states that begins with an "O" and ends with a yawn.
|
18161616
|
There were one hundred titles on the list. One hundred books that could neither be assigned nor put on a recommended reading list.
|
181674
|
her parents were gone they sat on the love seat side by side saying nothing the longest time
|
181662
|
And now its done! Five months read! This book is batoning in my head. Its eleven o'clock AM and hot as hell, even the breeze, billowing nets through the sliding screen adds sweat, cuts me down to size. I will needs again to…
|
1816117
|
I am so happy to see winter almost gone
|
1816146
|
Imagine the poem written with a pistol at your head.
|
181656
|
This violin of oneself, this rough strum of I, arc of wing over thick rib. This masturbatory chirping like the meat of God clenched in your teeth, an apostrophe giving aloneness possession over the inarticulate, a bridge between chords.
|
181670
|
"Do you have to call your brother a loser? He is not a loser and that was just uncalled for"
|
1815119
|
|
181531
|
Newsome glared at the sleeping woman, slumped over the edge of the hard, metal table, her head settled comfortably into the crook of her arm. Over an hour she's been in that position, he thought. Despite the harshness of the room, the fluorescent lights,…
|
181522
|
Why is the ghost of John Lennon haunting a house in rural Oregon?
|
181531
|
Mr. Lowell knelt down and put his face in his hands, his knees quickly covered in blood. Sobs.
|
18151613
|
If this was the day when the bribes of whiskey and US dollars would fail to work. If on this day a black bag, smelling of shit and fear, would be pulled over his head – the bloodied roots of a knocked out tooth tickling his neck.
|
181451
|
One of her favorites was of an old axe asleep on a desert floor. She told people the axe had the western lips of September. That it held the song of the ocean and the dreams of a scarecrow. Some thought she was mad to talk in such a way. Others believed h
|
181451
|
It was the shock of black hair twisted into a long thick braid that got our attention and made us want to find meaning here. Albert thought he recognized the hair in the grave.
|
1814139
|
with cool confidence
and believable body language
|
181451
|
Class (appears in my book Breaking it Down; no journal publication) When your neighbor James Frehley cusses you out for hanging a block and tackle from the silver maple in your front lawn, begin to pull the engine from your Galaxie anyway, smile and nod…
|
1813136
|
We make our way into the Colosseum–excuse me, the Prince Spaghetti Colosseum–and take in the beauty of Italy’s national pastime; sadistic cruelty to wacko religious cults.
|
181300
|
The road that passed through the swamp near where the cemetery stood, that is, the road that passed by the cemetery that stood near where the swamp lay—but no, that’s not the case, because that’s not the same road. If I’d been on THAT road—
|
181352
|
They are really living (they)
say things they don't mean
. . .
Do not know what they say
Take the path without heart,
seeing the image
. . .
The moon rises above them
It does not move their blood
Nothing calls out to their blo
|
1813105
|
1.There's a young woman in a nightclub seated next to a window out of which she watches the slow descent of snow, illuminated by strategic lights. She imagines herself falling with those flakes. Her friend has left her for the dance floor. The young woman is…
|
181332
|
Miraculous tarantulas, and octopii, have many limbs akimbo, Two have you: and they are better than be kept in zoo. Thine eyne are like the marbles that my youth had held in limbo, ‘Cept even better yet, for they are fairly lashed and greeny-blue. Your…
|
181376
|
...some years later I heard that an old friend jumped off that bridge to her death.
|
18121710
|
The leaves are telegrams sent from the branches to the wind, saying, “it's over stop don't send kisses stop forget me.”
|
181223
|
“How scared?” Mikey said, not wanting to find out, and already looking pretty nervous.
|
181200
|
Seven black and orange Tortoise-shell kittens nursed in a crate the day Sue returned from rehab, to her parent's Atlanta home.
|
181241
|
What I need to secure from you now are two swears on this copy of Camp Bylaws for the Hearty and True that you won’t let my misinformed intrusion dampen your beginnings.
|
181251
|
The waitress says,
“That’s a memory,”
as the smoke dances around her head.
|
1812127
|
|
181254
|
Max is the color of burnt caramelized sugar
the sweet crust that decorates our bright enameled pots.
|
