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I took my first shower away from home as if it were a ritual cleansing. It felt especially good, even exciting to be taking a shower in the bathroom of another woman. Why was that? Maybe because it didn't have marble around the bathtub, and it wasn't e
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if you have a key fob, you are fired. If you have a real set of keys, you can stay
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She wants to be an apple on a stick, a mop and handle, a brain attached to bones.
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And why rabbits? Rabbits never went to a slaughter house. Rabbits died in the road, run over by cars, shot by prepubescent boys or eaten by dogs but never slaughtered in mass. It didn’t make any sense, thought Art and he wanted to ask the small man i
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author's note: the borgs in this story have been programmed to think of themselves as IT and in speech refer to selves as YOU* Though IT too had ball and socket joints, the Borg could not sit down to face ITs inquisitor. While IT felt the need to clean up the fallen…
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That stupid bastard seemed to defy death at every turn in his life. His actions suggested invincibility, but his catch phrase indicated full awareness that he was indeed quite vincible.
And how fitting was his name. We didn’t know if it
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When we lie down
under the wind
the trees swaying
looking out over the fields
soft cobweb of a brain
exposed to hail
exposed to snow
trying to back away
from it
unable
knowing the earth
(the face it will take)
our
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She wonders if Minh knows fear, if it is something that forms in the womb, like fingernails.
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I want you to tell me the truth, she said. The whole fucking truth.
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I made myself tiny as I could, imagining I was Houdini shackled underwater, holding my nose and practicing my escape...
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She once told me that cleanliness is next to godliness, but I think everything is next to godliness, if you care enough to pay attention.
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My mother was a child of the death camps, passed her adolescence there. Survived.
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“Sometimes when I feel the urge to create, I don’t know whether to grab my paints, my camera, my guitar or my pen.”
“You could have sex,” her friend, sitting in the desk next to hers, joked.
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The crowd gathered around the dying man's bed, waiting for his last words.
He was a genius. The most prolific writer and philosopher to ever live. He wiped his ass with the words of Shakespeare. The thoughts of Plato, Socrates, Descartes, and Nietzsche w
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Prayer: Cold prayers in her throat, so far all unanswered. This thing grows steadily, unmistakably, cobbling counterfeit cells and flesh together into an unspeakable mass.
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By lunch:
The dryer is an F-5 dervish of mismatched socks, blue jeans and your yellowing college T's, lovingly held onto. For a moment there is a comforting warmth and softness to their smell. In the debris strewn landscape of the living room a carcass
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It's true that he had always been more pure than her, looking for the authentic experience, authentic food. And more adventurous. Blogging their way around the world, yes, that had been his idea . . .
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but isn't that the case
in most long-term,
committed
relationships?
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Marie knew that she should get out of the tub. She understood that Ellen was at the point of explosion. But Marie was too invested in imagining the picture she made at that very moment. As if through Benoit Doniel's eyes. As if it was a scene in a movie.
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A rock group named Stuck Gas Pedal. Another named Tweezer. A group of young punk-rockers wearing neckerchiefs named Mein Kampfire. But wait, there’s more.
A song called “We Were Being Facetious,” co-written by them all.
Lost Flyswatter. That
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Our fingers, arms and toes slither over one another along the smooth crevices between muscle and bone like familiar childhood paths.
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Crass, vulgar, boorish, impaired, angry, depressed, jealous, regretful.
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The rain is no terrible epitaph
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[He] practiced aromatherapy and licentiousness, in no particular order.
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It was not my intent to be nosy. I just wanted to be the best neighbor I could be. Having never had anyone close growing up, I wanted to get involved and be a part of my community, such as it was. My only neigbhor was Edna Phelps. She was one…
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i was jus countin' your heartbeats, Emmie
and you know what?
i think they's the same as mine!
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We’re on our way out, my brother and me, to the graveyard.
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He sees how he could release the duck, imagines it winging low over the water to where the others have made it safely.
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looking space packed right in up therelike a sun bleached kite stuck in between the several bluish colorsof the sky today has its ownamazing heartbeat. I can seeit clearly from here. Oh I can feel it reverberating for miles andmiles. If I look away it…
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