1789 5 4
|
It was Brad, for short; or so he would say. But really his name was Bradford, and he was a writer. He had almost always lived in New York. He was only half-white. His mother had run away with a black man in the sixties. Her father had told her to never come back to…
|
13191110
|
Back then we used to dance slowly to Sam Cooke's “You Send Me” on your parquet floors, whispering about planting our vegetable garden, planning to seed the lawn with centipede grass, promising to count all the red cars that came down the street.
|
120975
|
One day, Dasha confessed to Igor that she had an incurable illness: Purple emptiness.
|
158377
|
My skin tells a story of pain and labor. It’s better than a tattoo and cheaper.
|
176255
|
“Dear, baby, what do you fear?”
Or maybe it was, “Now here are the keys to the lock.”
|
17672118
|
After the funeral there was a luncheon in the church basement.
|
127022
|
In frustration, he picked up a hammer and slammed it straight into the center of the mask.
|
18463620
|
|
121497
|
I COULD always sleep. Go "home" now and sleep. My body and my fetus—who complain of this torture—would appreciate sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have to try to wake.
|
25811615
|
|
111601
|
Headsets screaming with suburban boredom
|
147665
|
Q: What's the best song to sing to your doc before cataract surgery?
A: I Only Have Eyes For You
|
16061714
|
He was a liability. I knew I had to ditch him.
|
16611812
|
He spends his Sunday morning spraying WD-40 through the straw-like stream attachment at the expansive paper nest of beige and ivory striped wasps.
|
119600
|
|
1231158
|
I'm standing on a toilet, trapped behind a stall. Watching Father U mop up the blood.
|
101911
|
I move, press my mouth to her ribs and trace
a line between her breasts with one, sticky
fingertip.
She
closes
deep
|
135144
|
“Kids okay?” I didn’t mean anything by it–it would have been innocent small talk any other time–but he took up the suggestion.
|
134054
|
The Bird King's advisors and ministers are a range of rusty kitchen utensils. They all observe a respectful silence in his presence.——Contrary to popular belief, the Bird King is not an atheist. His meathook priests do their rounds at twilight.——The…
|
1795118
|
The wind has no voice
and yet we listen,
perhaps imagining the ramblings
of a mad man
|
2326137
|
Trapped inside a seashell, almost pickled and eaten for dinner—could my life become any more bizarre?
|
297845
|
& where, I wonder, is the poet’s planet,
What kind of king, or queen rules it?
|
207132
|
Knowing this is too long for here I won't be crushed or enraged if no one has the time to read it. Also, it's not fiction.
|
167253
|
Out in the open air, the sun's rays washing over the dead, open fields, Nick lay, his back against the wall of the train platform, eyes facing the sky, hands outstretched to the…
|
17662119
|
I once read a book of warnings.
|
17811817
|
The air is dry and smoky from a fire some miles away. The air is cool. A pair of vultures is soaring in a circle high above the rising land.
|
15891512
|
Soon enough, October’s ragged/
lawn will hide its deficiencies//
under withered leaves of oak,
|
1345138
|
Instead, we found his red-inked list of boys who would never be saved,
|
38121412
|
they'll leave soon for the drive north on the interstate
|
14401110
|
Almost every weekend I'd ask Henry to go out with me and Marge, telling him we could double and, hey, maybe he could bring Ellen, who he dated a while back, who still asked about him. I'd suggest such things as going to a movie or out for a few drinks to reminisce about our…
|
