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She was wearing a black tank top and jeans, standing in the shade. Why was she there again? The camera hanging around her wrist answered her question. Right, he had called. He had asked if she could take picture for him and his…
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My life isn't exactly what you'd call glamorous. Hell it's not even good. Not like that bathroom cabinet, getting cleaned every other day and handled like it's made of glass.No, my life is literally full of shit. They come, they sit, they shit. On the good days, I'm lucky…
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... while I lie, cool as a nectar cream snowball,
in my Maggie The Cat slip, painting my toenails
a color called Bad Influence
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Against that, this testament, scratched/
with misshapen styluses, made/
from memory by unskilled hands,/
with a pallid memory of ink.
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The first day of the Steamfitters and Pipewranglers Local 175 strike was exhilarating. Every man (accurate; there were no women in the union) showed his support outside the Willgarden High Rise Corporation's company headquarters on Fifth Avenue, shaking unreadable signs…
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She was having a laugh, but I didn't know what about. We were sitting in a big house that was on the top of a large incline. All these books were scattered around, and the walls and the kitchen, the doors and the quarter round and every other thing, was old and…
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The Italian was late. She was supposed to come into the store, meet him in the back, and arrange to take the last of his liquor.
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Dina was a woman obsessed. She had endured a three hour layover in Chicago and another four in Heathrow for this. (The flight she had enjoyed with a few glasses of red and an HGTV show about plumbing that she could watch again and again.) She had staked out this corner of…
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Maybe adulthood isn't the destination I always thought it was?
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The bartender kept looking at himself in the mirror behind the bar. “Everyone in Hollywood is an actor,” Doc said.
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Dee startled awake from the dream, sat up in bed and looked around the room. The dream came back--hazy, yet clearer by the second. Dee had been warning the girl in her dream that he was a monster; that she shouldn't talk to him, should stay far away from him. …
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One must learn to give the Bull the things/
it needs: space, grass and grain, his mates/
and offspring, and elude the things/
its momentary fury wants- your death
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As the 5 train gained momentum away from Fulton Street, Helen took her seat with the alertness and suspicion of someone who had spent the day negotiating prices with dirty fishmongers.
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LOL? What does that mean? It’s showing up like everywhere.
You make me LOL? Is that equivalent to puke, do you think?
But no, they would have said: you make me want to LOL.
And I’m like HMB, you know, Holding My Belly,
To Keep From Puking. TKFP.
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Imagine the poem written with a pistol at your head.
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the sand is hot to walk upon so you must run if caught there w/out footwear. it is like a painter has colored the sea and made parts of it dark blue yet other areas green. little birds jump around the fine grain world and that is when you wonder where they came…
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From the opening bars that conjure up the sounds of European auto horns, "Parisian Thoroughfare" is as light as French pastry, as free and airy as a skirt blown by the wind.
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She remembered how cold it was in the factory that day. A few of the high windows stood open as usual, necessary for ventilation when the machines were all running, when the concrete floors were packed with the sweating bodies of warm human workers. The
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Watch the moon hang with methough miles and miles apart.Over sea and rock and railwaysforever in my heart.
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September 21, 2009 Dear Diary, She learned English by doing crosswords, my mom. I'm sure she picked up a few things from the people around her as well, but yeah, always doing crosswords. When I lived too far away to visit regularly, I bought a Scrabble…
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The old man tied his black tie and put on a black beret. His bones hurt, but at ninety-two it was to be expected.
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1. The sparrows' heads revolve slowly when you press the red button, but the boxing glove attachments don't work.2. A weird weaving of voices, unmusical harmony. One phrase punctures the texture: “The empty slot.”3. Poems are processed into more useful verbal…
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The harsh lights of the 7th Ave. Local revealed dark circles that had remained hidden during Vivian’s performance.
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I was in a Chinese restaurant
trying to read the menu
when I realized Hunan
was only 1 letter off of Human
I thought it read Chicken Human
This was just in a dream, so I ordered it
It was delicious, but kind of salty
Then someone at ano
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Squirrels and mice fear her shadow
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Gripping the sink, head bowed, I let the blood gather on the rim of my nose, pooling for a moment, before its fleeting journey towards the basin.
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