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Baby Teak can access Wikipedia by rubbing two xylophone mallets together.
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93730
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...something is pulsing in the shovel against the window and its pompadour of snow.
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66720
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I send pronouns on walkabouts to where there are only planes and light
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Hands and fingers feeling down
Cross the boundaries I laid
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Now it's late. I am hanging upside down from a rope coiled around my crushed left ankle, the pain too sharp to be really felt, as the excess blood to my head makes my thoughts fuzzy. I am almost two meters from the rock face, thirty-five hundred meters above sea-level, the…
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12811
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Doris LessingWasn´t messingAbout or wingingIt when she wrote The Grass Is Singing
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The old-timers at the Working Man’s Club wear a sheen of indifference every Wednesday night. Beneath the wafting, cresting mountains of burning cigarettes smoke, the train-track rattle of dominoes chipping at the dark wood tables in the corner, the consta
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110020
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When I was eighteenI worked at a convenient storeAnd the owner was from PakistanAnd he dressed well and Smelled of cologneAnd owned two storesAnd was always going back and forthBetween the two of themHe had to make sure we were doingOur jobsAnd whenever some kid…
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She awakened and thought at first that the noise coming from the basement was an intruder, that someone was down there and might cause her harm. Then she remembered that the furnace had been erratic lately and had made some strange noises. She drifted off…
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Come to the park and swing with me, sing with me.
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Charlie's recurring fantasy emerged from its hiding spot as he finished his fourth Old Fashioned. He'd be on his back; she'd be astride him. A strong, assertive young woman with her hands planted on his chest and her hair falling forward over her face.
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An old man leaning over his stamp collection. His burning face glows with bourbon. Underneath, children try to stretch moments. Each toss of the ball, turn of the handlebars a deliberate time shaping exercise to see how much distance they can…
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i mean the perfect setting is great and all the right lighting very little the right music she says kings of leon i say broken social scene with nothing but time and a large bed with balled up sheets and us but i love early morning fluorescent bathroom light…
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The next time I woke up there were several guns pointed at me. I opened my eyes to see my mom and dad watching as the local cops arrested me.
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Every day, I write myself further away
From the East
Where we began
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Fingers fan like birds’ wings
cradling the volume,
head hanging low
and lips moving silently...
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140011
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Barbie wore only her clear pink heels...
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While Leif was still very young, his emotions were very easy to read, for they appeared on his parchment coloured skin, named in his mother's writing. When he was seventeen, Leif fell in love. She was a pretty maid, one of the college servants who kept his…
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She went for the typewriter first.
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"Well, you certainly can't be marrying him then .. "
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Her cash. It smelled like seven-dollar-a-quart gardenia perfume and cave aged cheese—like hope overgrown with mildew.
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There is no life here, only a bleak slab of frozen desert and a sorrowful wind that calls for me to venture out.
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Pay attention: our names were Bobby, Didi, Joanie, Mitch and Sam. It was popular in those days to wear big name buttons across your chest, and we’d line up side-by-side as we watched our reflections affix said buttons, anchoring them to our stiff lapels
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Roanne hungered. Memory had ruled her forever. Shards really, edged like machetes: daddy, whose fingers had eyes in the dark. Momma, ensconced in the shadows. Inside the church, those pairs of short…
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Before Uncle Max died of a heart attack, he had some words of advice for his only nephew and godson. Upon his death, as instructed, a package in brown paper arrived at Jeffery Glimson’s house on a warm June afternoon.
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Another hard week
tired but
make the effort
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Around sunset or sometime after, we are on the futon talking about dream lives and cancers. He asks me about my ideal living situation, my ideal career, my ideals in general. I would be a turtle, I say. I would travel and have a home I could always go to, I could always be…
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A horn honks, brakes squeal, Chloe’s screaming, pulling at her. She’s lying on the sidewalk. Her shin hurts. Her knee. Chloe kneels beside her. Ring of kids staring. I’m good, she says. I’m good.
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Gloomy night slippery as snake and duck.
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