282 0 1
|
ignored a long time at everydoor
on every door, hang a little sign
‘you won’t keep me out forever’
|
169585
|
This is where he died, she says to me, and points to the damp pavement. Her hair is wet, and slicked against her neck. The humidity is making everything engulf her. The sleep shorts I bought her last July are loose on her now, but between the rain and
|
33360
|
"Alas," said the mouse, "the whole world is growing smaller every day."
|
2400
|
Your hands will grip my waist,
like the curtains are being pulled away,
the veil between fact and fiction.
|
26942
|
The door of the Continental opened an old man, a true geezer, stepped out, scratched his baked potato-shaped head. He was wearing sky blue polyester pants, Velcro shoes, a white striped polo that accentuated his man boobs and turkey neck. This man hunched
|
1143105
|
Two types coexist- the sanguine/
and exsanguinated./
My skin is cool/
and pale as moonlight
|
1792214
|
On the fifth day I pass the gnarly man with the wetsuit on the water side.
|
121095
|
I fear my personal information travels the World Wide Web/
and mad Ukrainians will steal my name and wealth./
I fear the fiscal cliff and raising the ceiling on national debt./
I fear a death by taxes.
|
159166
|
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
|
108178
|
the child just didn't want to let go
|
12341
|
He looked Dad right in the eye and said, “I’m not afraid of him anymore, Dad! Watch!”
|
155410
|
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
|
102200
|
Ships tumble, cars crash, horns gulp water, bombs burst up from the ground in a halo of screams.
|
122762
|
The night is a jelly slosh, a fertile rumble, a rhumba, black and seeping, thick. An arm rises.
|
320
|
Brady's mouth is dry, his heart's in his throat and he's jumping out of his skin. The fear is a living thing unwinding like a serpent from the base of his spine. Then he remembers to breathe. Breathing is the only way he's found to handle fear before it becomes…
|
