1294 1 0
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"Isn't it time to remove the nails, and put Jesus to rest once and for all," Mary asks.
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135900
|
I thought of Ruth burrowed deep in the nest of her closet and quickly jumped into the footlocker. I nearly stopped breathing as he entered his bunker.
|
138111
|
an old Black woman, a sequined black cap poised on the left of her crown of black infused gray hair. A gray wool shawl that seemed to perfectly match her hair's color wrapped her all the way down to her hips, where a battered pair of blue jeans rested
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1179147
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where is the magic at?
the spit
the dirt
or the words?
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157210
|
The sun browbeat me relentlessly, like a one-eyed judge with an unforgiving heart.
|
116100
|
But I am quite sure,
in my loneliness,
there is nothing that aches inside me more,
than a desire to persist.
|
900
|
Who made your wings? Who draped your dress? Did you hold the granite heart when they engraved it, when they set my child’s picture there?
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108121
|
Grady Quail wondered why God didn't just have another son
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107374
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The marble, it's just there.
I can't explain
how it got there
(or when),
all I know
is that everything
is in that marble.
By "everything,"
I mean every
thing. Your breakfast?
It's there.
|
1000
|
It is a prayer he is saying, and it comes with the scent of apples, rotten. And terrible roses, all wanting something from him, something he can't give. He doesn't believe that he'll rise like the holy one, and go up, and be saved. He came here looking for something…
|
158966
|
It drifted into the sea, I say, when you ask me about home. You’ve only known me for a few moments, so you’re not sure how to gauge me. You laugh, and make an Annabel Lee reference. The English teach in me wants to hug you. The New Jersey in me wants
|
95210
|
She became suited to herself only. She no longer tried in any way to fit, she fought the molds they created and kept moving in her own direction. Often forward, sometimes a bit backward, and she rightly scaled her own Mt. Olympus and there she sat with he
|
155210
|
But she knew what she would find. She knew it all the moment she felt the sticky fingerprints behind the slat of her old oak slay bed. The fingerprints that would only be left from a person grabbing it from behind their head. The fingerprints that she
|
300
|
move your lips as you read/
if you can’t read aloud
|
6266
|
move your lips as you read/
if you can’t read aloud//
unless it’s an annual report--
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