1830 10 2
|
Time
Holds
Ultimately
Nothing
Dear
Except
Reunion
|
213200
|
Pussy’s eyes narrowed, her dark, luxurious fur quivering on her back. “How can you say such a thing! It’s not true.”
|
185511
|
“I will become a respected novelist!” proclaimed Billy.
|
182082
|
the dogneck gave no support
|
197031
|
Picking up a perfect stranger—perfect meaning dead, in this case—and shaping him into the man you’d want him to be is not so easy.
|
124921
|
I must say your script is rather impressive. “You will mesmerize a girl in velvet stained garment…” “The channels of cologne fade from a body, eventually.” The girl carousels home with a raspier…
|
147630
|
It's cheap beer, but cold
you welcome that rushing hiss and the following
long drink of chilly wetness washing away
the parched, dust dry, cotton mouth
of grave-digging in the desert sun
|
242431
|
I arrived at Yaddo, the prestigious artists’ retreat, in the summer of 1941. With America’s “day that will live in infamy” several months away, my own day of infamy began the second morning of my residency.
|
2560100
|
Somewhere there are fires burning in oil barrels, ragged homeless men warming torn-mittened hands―one day I'll be with them.
|
90710
|
In the store, multi-color kites dance along the ceiling. And in the costume aisle, a young mother shows her daughter how to tie her shoe. “Bunny ears, around the corner…” Glass animals shine in rows on high shelves. A boy examines lengths…
|
120900
|
Marie Poupon-Kennedy wasn’t strangled by one set of hands; there were thirty sets around that long, pale neck.
|
323862
|
I’ve always missed the mountains, but I didn’t know it until I saw them.
|
193741
|
He lit my cigarette even though he didn't want me to smoke. Buying me drinks all night, he didn't complain, but he thought I drank too much.
|
178700
|
Just as he expected, the reaction was spontaneous, euphoric and unequivocally positive. With just one exception. A politician connected with the home service of his parliamentary section's boss, with the mobile phone number 0-609-3459812, and known for hi
|
29174020
|
They lie down in the prairie grass and clutch each other, imagine dying under fat clouds.
|
23821511
|
The sky was an over-bleached sheet, stretched to the point of ripping. Everything worn but clean. He was saying he'd be happier if we lived in Canada. The sun seemed very close, like a star at the top of a Christmas tree. Maybe I could pull it down. Our baby had…
|
249596
|
In the evidence of broad daylight, in the secrecy of darkness, in drizzling rain that teased the embers, Annabelle worked hard.
|
25063718
|
list:
almond message oil
almond sunset tea
dark chocolate 80%
dry rhubarb soda
lavender bath oil
musk candles
red light bulb
|
321321
|
At the TV station across the street two sports team mascots are dancing and miming for the cameras. There are some young men wearing baseball caps at the viewing window simulating sex acts for the cameras.
|
206121
|
Dog time is water. Incidents bob near the surface, fall into whirlpools, sink or drift with the flow.
|
221520
|
I was afraid of needles and ponds of water and I was transfixed by both.
|
191900
|
Jack thinks I should carry a loaded gun in my purse.
|
193032
|
The sand felt warm, the way it usually was on Saturday afternoons in Seaside Heights; face down on the beach under a hot July sun that burned my back and shoulders
|
198660
|
her: what are you worried about? me: the dog sitter.
|
217772
|
You look just like your mom
she says
I LOL her and say, funny
cuz you look just like yours
|
154831
|
The TV projects from an insect arm. It has the face of my ex-husband, smiling and void. I like to set small fires and inhale them.
|
185721
|
He lays his piping accoutrement on the bedside table, removes his cap, brocaded jacket, boots and slacks. Holmes brushes gently, the back of his hand across the confused face of Watson— their…
|
152300
|
I'm a jogger of these parts, but I've yet to discover a dead body, or even dead body parts, or worse yet, discover that my parts will be discovered by some unfortunate jogger.
|
160900
|
She's sure the chicken is having an identity crisis; it's staring into the full-length mirror, watching itself, a never-ending exchange of eyeball glances between chicken flesh and silver-blasted…
|
181812
|
And I just want to say that my morning song is better than yours. I want you to hear it buzzing in me like an old radiator. I want you to do what you’ve done before. To press your ear against the skin and listen for the static.
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