81921
|
Is death like standing in a room at night and turning off the lights? You would still hear your breathing. You hold your breath. Silence. Darkness. Yet you feel gravity, your feet on the floor. Then the air brushes your skin. Remove the air,…
|
114298
|
Regret takes the shape of little clouds ...
|
94210
|
The lace fell through the fingers, wrinkled and nimble they had become too used to avoiding the finite objects in life which needed attention. The white cotton sat loosely on her shoulders, the collar exposed the skin which had become dry and her shoulder
|
101740
|
She had endured three years of abuse for those hot, fleeting moments of tenderness—just enough warmth to keep her second-guessing the bitter frost. Now the ring promised a lifetime of biting back her pain.
|
132982
|
My piano tutor, a walnut-faced shrew, rapped my knuckles with her small plastic baton to smack them back into the proper tempo, an adagio I’d mastered weeks before. One hour until the audition and damn if this woman didn’t break the skin of two of my fing
|
1080102
|
Rasheed changes his mind about working for me. He can't bring himself to break with Uzma. The bond between them is too strong. I admire his loyalty, to her and to her parents. Don turns out to be my most reliable ally. Plus, he brings a ragtag security force with…
|
111120
|
Now it's late. I am hanging upside down from a rope coiled around my crushed left ankle, the pain too sharp to be really felt, as the excess blood to my head makes my thoughts fuzzy. I am almost two meters from the rock face, thirty-five hundred meters above sea-level, the…
|
12497
|
There were so many suicide choices it seemed overwhelming. The chief criteria was the least pain.
|
128675
|
The Devil and the Holy Ghost played Euchre on Friday nights. The Devil drank rock and rye and the Holy Ghost went for Miller Lite. What just irks hell out of me, pardon my French, the Ghost began, is that nobody knows who the fuck I am.
|
108511
|
Normally I would have never drank such a wine, but it was late on a Friday evening and the bottle was on the house...
|
96221
|
We are nerds. We are Legion. We do not forgive. We do not forget. Expect us bitch.
|
180531
|
Hipster-neutral dressed simulacra-person offers a glance and a wave, sudden as a ping-pong serve, designed to crowd your space and "pal" you but I dodge it — I'm practiced at this.
|
124954
|
Many hours to make a brick: many bricks to make a curve.
|
82410
|
The funeral grounds look level and calm. We leave the urban world behind for an instant. The other world has claimed someone. But we are in limbo. It is a terrible thing when a connection or breakthrough moment is not achieved or granted by the universe. …
|
122086
|
I wrote her a poem.She said, “I hate poetry.” I said, “OK, just read the words then."
|
119852
|
Your stepsisters send their love. All three are still on the wagon.
|
69000
|
Salome said she wanted the head of John the Baptist on a platter, adding
the latter touch of finery for reasons
all her own.
|
72320
|
The next morning, I was shaved, skinned and stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey for its untimely demise.
|
124373
|
The surroundings, he thought, are just as important as what's surrounded.
|
1210157
|
I fondly remember those warm, weekend evenings at twilight on the beach. After the frolic of the waves flattened, sending the surfers home and, after the last bait was spent, sending the surfcasters away, I'd set up the little, foldable, 3‘x4', rectangular stage I always…
|
107000
|
Welcome to the world of (un)reality television. He/she who dies with the most stories wins. Another kind of religion. The Church of Being Famous For Whatever.
|
122221
|
Two days before Christmas 1946, my mother put me on an Illinois Central railroad train at the whistle stop of Neoga, Illinois.
|
1010159
|
Squeeze the Word into Flesh
|
2787159
|
Although decades have passed since I last tasted lysergic acid with diethylamide flavoring, I cannot fail to remember the tasting.
|
27307745
|
I squeeze the soft bag tighter between my legs.
|
109410
|
The morning news.
The birthday present you bought me.
This poem.
My hair when I wake up in the morning, at any given point in the day.
Pigeon pose.
My singing voice.
How much I love myself.
Coffee.
Sex.
Not having sex.
Having movie star sex.
Ha
|
1597144
|
He had the cannonball head of Hemingway, the stump neck, sloping shoulders and barrel chest.
|
156711
|
maybe if I bat my lashes just right, or look prim enough to fly, you just might touch me tonight, and the dream will pop and fizz and I will wake somewhere, your hands smoothing these lines of worry away.
|
116252
|
The last time I saw Jackson, I didn’t write down the set list. This time I didn’t write down the set list, either.
|
125800
|
Ahead, she heard voices. She approached very slowly, as quiet as possible. She knelt behind a pair of shrubs and peeked through a small opening.
|