1618 6 5
|
I stole forth dimly in the dripping pause
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279196
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This is a fairy tale. There is a princess who is not a princess but we will call her a princess because every fairy tale has a princess. Her name is Tanya. She's the daughter of a mechanic and a housewife. She has two brothers and two sisters. She is the middle…
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118210
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i’ve started writing these things down
on blue-lined notebook paper
or really anything i can get
my tendonitis-ridden hands on.
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115061
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When I was a small child, my father was just barely a man, and he was independently wealthy. So it didn't matter that he was an adolescent inside. There was never any mention of "working." No notion of career. Just the girl he knocked up and the amusing…
|
185700
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Danica stared at her hand as she felt he warmth of the wind. She remembered Alysia saying that she felt the wind through the heat.
|
26712215
|
She leaned up on an elbow, smirked and touched his leg. “Want to do it?”
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1717134
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the urgent, naked glow of opportunity
or
the dim fluorescent nuisance of an object out of reach
|
130130
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I let the little fingers slip thinking they couldn't stand to hold on anymore. When they were done they said addled and I was left behind in the room with only my hand. I hurt myself trying to picture the pretty girls and they took out a piece above my eye. …
|
1905117
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My wife and I are cat people. Indeed, that's how we met. We met at a wake.
|
164341
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We cannot love the past...
|
1542108
|
like the Bible in / Mauritania, like a mouse in a vial of ammonia, / like a retired coal miner on vacation in the Alps
|
222432
|
This is what happened today.
|
162500
|
Part of me feels like a wounded animal surrounded by hungry cougars. Another part of me feels like being mauled by a cougar might not be that bad. A third part of me wishes he could punch the second part of me in the face.
|
56402920
|
Some women, it is said, like to fuck.
This book--The I Hate to Fuck Book--is not for them.
|
182992
|
It's the outrage of the red monkey at her feet,
And the nude thirteen-year-old woman sitting upright
In the blue velvet chair, and the hints of blue at her navel,
And at her lips and belly and crotch, that so upset Paris.
Gauguin had his nerve
|
2264157
|
On Monday I cook coq au vin. Fatty yellow skin detached and floating in the sauce.
|
36614133
|
It was one of the first things she did after they opened the wall. That’s at least what she told me years later, more than 1000 miles from Berlin.
|
193176
|
Now, the Midwest was ashes. The oceans were covered with hydroponics plant growth.
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171253
|
The porous bear the anchorite’s vial
|
150971
|
|
2680157
|
He needed an editor for his Yale dissertation, the shifting borders between criminal justice and the internet. But the sex was inevitable. He was six two. I was blonde. I don’t think we liked each other very much, but that wasn’t important.
|
44259851
|
I cannot regain my balance
|
244996
|
No, I just liked what it said "All at Once Is What Eternity Is" which seemed right to my seventeen year old mind, explained it all to me the way nothing else did. I matted the poster in art class and put it in a frame over my bed. Betty hated the poster.
|
235682
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“They’re Rocky Mountain Oysters,” the blond said. “Fresh. You’ll absolutely love them Jim.”
|
180363
|
During the day we search for truffles. I have a pig named Henry. He is a big help. He wanders the forest sniffing for truffles like a parable of porcine inquisitiveness. He knows what he is doing. He is not just a pig. Nor ordinary pig. He is a French pig
|
43625728
|
It was like the time we broke icicles dripping from the low eaves and brandished them like swords...
|
194033
|
In another lifetime the loft had been a shoe factory and I joked how in the dark of night I could hear the ghosts of lost soles speaking in tongues. There was the rolling of eyes, and when I repeated the joke to my therapist, who was actually sitting acr
|
23582012
|
...I pray for the animal souls I have taken -- panther, gazelle, hyena, vulture...
|
747116
|
Let’s start with the end—death. Upbeat, huh?
|
198642
|
The dogs shit on the roof and then, every two weeks or so, the man in Apartment 311 climbs out the window with a plastic shovel and scoops the shit into a white plastic bag, which soon grows heavy with dung, dangling from his black-gloved wrist.
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