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It was a bright day in April, the cruelest month, and the gears and pumps of the train beat on into the still air.
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Then you came home from your travels and stole her, your new queen, though she was ready. And raped my heart as you entered the new passage to heaven. And I cried out your name on the river, and swam in the warm waters behind you, naming your new name a
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I stand corrected once more.
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It was a wake-up call. A sign that I needed to stop and ask if I was making wise and sensible life choices.
My iPod was full.
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I read my book of names. Over and over again. Our name appeared in the newspaper 254,991 times between 1896 and 1944.
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And soon you'll be walking
and walking
and walking
and walking
and walking
and walking
and walking
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“Yeah, she's a real slut,” many contestants' mothers say.
“If he could only keep it in his pants, he'd probably be able to stay in the country,” others say about their sons
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I loved without marriage and the men loved without divorce and we loved a twenty-four-year-old eating and how gracious she shone over a tame bottle of beer.
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Track One Johnny Burkemeister, lead vocals and flutist of the band Albatross Antics, sits on his bed thinking in silence. His elbow rests on his knee, and his palm on his forehead with his fingers running through his dirty-blonde hair. He is staring at a copy of Paste…
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We used to have a saying: steal an old lady’s pocketbook and you’ll go to jail, steal her pension and you’ll go to the Ritz.
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People were just doing it.
Doing it everywhere. On lawn chairs and stray patio cushions and watching. Watching every one do it.
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a dim wood-paneled stair leading to the ladies’ rooms, candle-lit.
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The Traignarry Light Preservation Society meets monthly, and welcomes visitors.
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I’ve got a full day ahead of me; I have to write a brief in Lipshutz v. Fredbird, a property damage claim against the St. Louis Cardinals’ mascot for breaking a fan’s glasses as part of his routine.
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he makes his way back / to the ocean, back to the popcorn, back / to the pinball machines
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You were never at all like Narcissus, trying to remember girls’ names with marble in their eyes. You never adored your own image, looking at yourself in the river, not like I did (looking in the mirror that brings sleep.) I remember you admiring the dre
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As I fed Puff, I thought about the nightmare Lily shared with me that morning. She dreamed Puff had a hole in his throat and all his blood squirted out until he got as small and skinny as a deflated baloon.
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You the macho man
shuffling one woman
out the back entrance
to let another one in the front.
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I almost forgot. Her nipples taste like that syrup from a can of peaches. The kind you aren’t supposed to eat if you are 18 or older. The kind that adds baggage to the hips and I’m certainly not about to take out an insurance policy on my ass.
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Great Uncle did stunts in silents and shot a man in a cowboy one-reeler, then vanished to the hills like Roy Earle in High Sierra.
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The two cats begin to circle
To better make my surface workle.
They treat me as (this makes me sore)
Floor model in a mattress store.
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he’s recognizable in the earliest images of misery: a hand shoving a young gladiator before the lion; the fire devouring a witch in Salem. And here he is. Again.
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7.53Another morning ritual. Trying to fill the loose ends of time in the early morning is a task.7.54I've done about everything, too early to work and too late to go back to sleep. 7.55Trying to avoid the nausea of life at all cost. My mind is a snakepit, filled with…
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Don't feed it to the dog, it has bones, it is a whole goddamn chicken in a can, and I can't stress that enough. Besides one year you gave me a toilet seat for Christmas. I couldn't even eat that Ky
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There’s an old journalism adage, usually uttered by editors who haven’t had their butts out of a comfy leather newsroom chair in years, which goes: “You know… the news just doesn’t walk in the door.” ... But sometimes, it does.
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Well I, for one, knew immediately what these great muffled sobs were coming from the parking lot behind our apartment complex. This stud named Clint was dumping one of his girlfriends, again. Exactly how many were there? Could have been a dozen, for all
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Neither you nor I is old enough, of course,
to remember that America’s most
popular athlete once was a horse.
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On his way to his first fishing expedition in the Bay Area, the man remembered the rustle and shimmer of the willows by the muddied Jemez River in New Mexico, cold beer, the clean camaraderie of childhood friends. He walked along a path choked with greenery to the San Pablo…
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The bathing suits are like Christmas dresses.
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It's always dark when Cal and I arrive. We park under the bright sodium lamps, closest to the doors. The lights will probably be off by the time we return, unless the sensors miscue in the uncertain light of early morning. When that happens, the lights…
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