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Maybe the thing is over by now. They have gathered up all the pictures and mementos of our dad’s life and hauled them away.
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saw the world was a mess
I did nothing about it, poured myself some apple juice
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28511712
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Some nights now I sit at my window
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"You're publishing too much too / quickly. We think that's unhealthy. We want you / to slow down. You're becoming a fame whore."
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15151617
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If I wanted cautious I wouldn't be in her bed. She would only sleep with her husband. Adultery is not for pussies. So I dive back into the conversation which has made my dick limp and ask where I'm wrong in our post-coital chatter and she says it doesn't
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The river’s not/
a river but/
a FEMA map/
of flooding probabilities.
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I talk to her, whispering endearments and flattery. I tell her how incredible it feels to be between her legs.
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Maybe she would get married and have a baby, she said. Not with me, I said
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Put down your bazooka, Marianne.
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Ed wants to watch the last half of the football game. His wife wants him to mow the lawn.
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To See Who's There Able these days to search through centuries, I click, scribble, cut and paste, skim, reject, record, resurrect a wet stone wall, the smell of burning peat. Bob's your uncle, Peggy's …
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17662115
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“Last night the Scots invaded Sweden,” I wrote, “to retrieve the silver filched from the Irish the Norwegians had in their coffers when Sweden conquered. The Swedes offered the Nobel to a Scots writer to keep ... the peace."
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"Why so ornery?" she asked.
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2337259
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When I was young I used to carry a butcher knife to bed. My grandmother placed it in my small hands before tucking me in.
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18262116
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Mark Strandover decadesa steady diet of dictionenlarged his heartone day it just burstRobert Frosta crazy ideathat he couldbuild a wallwithout mortar tookpossession of his mindhe piled stoneon stone higherand higher untilthey toppled overcrushing him beneath Wilfred…
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She stuffed the stars down her stockings
and left;
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If this was the day when the bribes of whiskey and US dollars would fail to work. If on this day a black bag, smelling of shit and fear, would be pulled over his head – the bloodied roots of a knocked out tooth tickling his neck.
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22232015
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Arriving at the pier I see a sailboat in dead wind.
"That is pathos," Magritte says,
pointing to a barnacle.
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19932015
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The tailfins of our ’57 Plymouth Fury dip and rock from the stress: Three boys—say no more?—jumping into the car. And Dad, loading suitcases into the trunk, working them around the steel cooler heavy with Cokes, root beers, ice. He slams the trunk lid dow
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This is not a story you expect to end at Cape Horn.
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I always wanted to head on up to New York City and be taught by a decent painter, but as time kept on trucking, it became clear that that was just a big dream that would not shake out and I'd never be a real artist because I was shy of the money I'd need to stay up there in…
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Regrets lined behind him like crossties on a railroad track.
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299276
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She locked herself in the bathroom,
turned on the tap and poured lavender Suave shampoo
all over them and rinsed them till they no longer
bled. She took off all her clothes and tried on a
pair, turning in front of the mirror, thrusting her
hips, pout
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I liked the taste in my mouth, mint and cigarettes and fresh and filthy.
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Donnie remembers just in time. So we run practically every stop sign and red light in town, and get there just before they close.
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Mariposa, the skinny hound, crawls out from under the trailer
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No jobs except drinking...
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I’m practically naked; coral sundress, very damp panties, black with lace insets. I know I still smell like pussy.
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Lately he's been wanting to write about love...
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