1165 7 4
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these tender girls tears recent / with stained souls, brides of dead, / cadaverous Erebus; unguarded ladder / long the down going…came Anticlea then
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And there on the street
Were a bunch of frantic pigeons
Picking over some discarded
Chicken bones
I mean they were really
Going to town on them
You know, frantic
Like there was no tomorrow
And then I saw it
A real sign of progress
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“We could dooble date,” he said.
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Unfortunately, the question had a similar impact on me that a command not to have thought about rhinoceroses would have—once suggested, I could think of little else
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I put my arms around her and whisper to her while she plays the piano. She wiggles and tells me to stop it.
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But my point is, this isn’t a Thomas Kinkade. It’s not like you can pay me fifty dollars and I can drive to the Twombly store and buy another Twombly.
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Ego bereft of consistency Betrays a heart hungering to toll. Unable to trust its will Or harbor imaginary gods, It gains a hold melding into a role whose proven viability Can give convincing cover To buy time to fabricate An identity that feels unique, Yet…
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He has one good eye and is missing the other. The socket of his missing eye squints with a disturbing and unfathomable insight.
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He is sitting in the infinite rain
and the water is making him some infinite silhouette
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She wore no bra. As she jammed the truck into park and pushed against the heavy door, he saw the points of her nipples against her dress. Ice filled his belly, the most beautiful pink-colored ice.
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But no matter how we died, we all end up here, in the Meadowlark Children's Cemetery.
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“What took you so long?” she asks. She seldom asks me that when we’re done, but today I feel ready to protract the glory, to tease out its rise and fall like the lingering chords of a Debussy pastorale.
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Mimi: Santa, I am so down with taking a number, but I really can't have you reading that particular story.
Santa: Let me be the judge of that. I am Santa. I give presents to kids.
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If Single Stroke Seven were a cocktail, it would be a Bloody Mary made of one part Worcestershire sauce, the other part gas station vodka, and ketchup and hot sauce packets swiped from fast food joints. Chill with ice crystals chiseled off freezer walls,
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125374
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Francesco needed a magnifying glass to read her little missives.
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not in the interest of verisimilitude/
for there's plenty of that in each day already/
as trajectories interrupt other trajectories
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French citizens. The friends were all citizens of a half-assed France. The friends were all half-assed citizens of a French stance. Carol was more American, more eggnog, more cream-of-wheat. She represented dull victory.
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I think we love sex because it brings us so close to the heat of creation that we can see the smoldering flames and the light rising from twigs being rubbed together between the legs. Okay – your turn!
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and the moon shines on like a silver dollar
and coyotes in the desert scream and holler
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Are you interesting?Are you clever?Are you, maybe often, sometimes never?Are you shining? Pining?Are you glowing?Are you worth knowing?Are you a life without zest?Are you mainlining strife …
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The Black Thing spread over the room, eating away his mother's face as well as the doctors and nurses who dashed in a frenzy around him until they too were swallowed in the black singing cloud.
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She is alone in the ocean
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After the Tokyo experience, Frank and Michiko decided that when she went on extended tours, Frank would accompany her.
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125394
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There was only the sound of crickets.
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I've never liked kind eyes;I prefer drive.Or fire.And when a woman's eyes are described as "doe,"I hear "dumb."Like an animal.
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Her tits were perfect
But came with a white picket fence
Around them
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This story* is brought to you by
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