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by Bobbie Ann Mason and Meg Pokrass
at The Nervous Breakdown website:
http://www.thenervousbreakdown.com/mpokrass/2012/10/tweeting-war-and-peace-with-bobbie-ann-mason/
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Luke Warm and the Sole Contenders.
Door Odor Ant.
Release My Pajamas!
Behemoth Pterodactyls.
Dragon Wagons.
Mucked Up.
The Gosspinator.
Italian Film Director.
Summer Dress.
Unsolicited Advice.
Golden Calf.
The Gum-Chewin Gurus.…
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130054
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Left by a melting snowbank: Cup lids, pine needles, a cairn of dog shit, And the grey soggy shape Of an eyeless winter bird. His breast is an old accordion Gone to rot in an old…
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My father pressed on,/
deliberate and calm,/
waiting for the ambulance
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Robert had chopped his hair and grown a soul patch since I'd last seen him. He was tanned, the hair on the top of his head was spiked, and some gray specks were creeping in on the hair on the side of his head. Had…
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The monarchs that migrate to Mexico and California in the autumn every year live for only a month.
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I'd have gone even if I got F's for the entire two weeks. The homeless would have homes, the sick, medicine; the hungry would eat. They could not wait for the generosity of Kurban Bayramı. Now was the hour of relief. The children's eyes. Lambs whose bl
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The devil ran in my blood.Scars chase each other on my skin.One year old, I fell down the stairs in my walker.Five years old, I fell out of a tree while convincing my older sister to climbthe outlawed tree.At six I rode my bike down the biggest hill in the…
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130310
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In dreams begin responsibilities--Yeats I'm writing this story to tell you about a mistake, despite the fact that you might find it boring or might consider my writing style onerous or overeager. I begin with…
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Contemporary persecution of Christians takes on milder forms of torture like having to explain away something Pat Robertson said, or constantly having to hear about Fred Phelps picketing funerals because he happens to hate homosexuals.
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The little notice talked its trash, a J’accuse!
“Posted: For Non-Payment of Dues.”
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Her captors allowed her the use of the toes of one foot. It was hard to pretend she was numb—as if playing an artic game indoors. With the ball of her foot, she primed the canvas. Her big toe acted as a fan brush, the rest were sable, flat, or pointy. She told…
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I hope you’re happy, she said. Fucker!
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They strung him up, stowed on the balcony, and beat him with sticks, and beat him with rocks, and bent his muscles, …
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"As the thing lurches upright, I can see now that it is an old woman with snake eyes… a dead old woman with snake eyes and peeling flesh. She is putrid and maggoty. She is coming right at us. She is my mother."
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The first thing Vera did after her dismissal from the mortuary was buy a pack of cigarettes.
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we all die from the bottom up
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The boy wasn’t raised this way.
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“You think it’s a self-castrating suicide note or a self-righteous freedom speech?”
“Probably just the ramblings of a madman, pissed he lost a company baseball game.”
“Fuckin-A, Pete! Double-murder suicide for a baseball game? Ain’t nobody that craz
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The trail wound through oak trees and climbed up a hill. The sun was high and hot whenever we came out from the cover of the trees.
We stopped under a tree.
“OK old man,” Leda said. She came to me and kissed me. Then she was unbuttoning my pants and kne
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156593
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This is me pitching a recently completed screenplay to a film producer at lunch the other day:
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114194
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Alas, the wind, the rain/
and plate tectonics take temples,/
fire and sediment papyrus and clay,
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. . . I wanted to put Tiffany out of her misery and mine and shove her in front of the next large vehicle hurtling down the drive-through lane . . . .
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[DO NOT READ BETWEEN THIS LINE ... CITIZEN!]
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Co-written with Bobbie Ann Mason
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I couldn't think of anything that rhymed with "unibrow" except Tsing Tao, which is a brand of Chinese beer....
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Smooth slope-topped plateaus Turn liquid as latex, With ridgelines of pearls That separate and run At the rigidly textured Patterned wafercone. Edible scepter, Its liquefying cap Is strictly temporary And mostly…
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So what happensTo the VFWIn a global economyAnd the monumentsErected in reverenceAfter the boysWho became menCame back homeTo be fathersThen grandfathersGreat-grandfathersAnd start to fall awayAs the days creep byThat petty paceOf politics as usualFamily DiasporasAnd maybe…
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