185 18 17
|
Without fail, as soon as a fellow citizen sidles up beside, the well runs dry.
|
32693
|
Our goal as a press is two fold: to publish the best and brightest that we come across; and to discourage bad, sloppy, writing by murdering the author of the worst submission that we receive each submission cycle.
|
109143
|
It’s quite simple - don’t move.
No fake or feint - just stand your ground.
The fixed gaze, the thousand yard stare, hold your place.
|
114532
|
He was drinking heavily again and complaining that there was nothing fresh worth writing about.
|
5520
|
He hoped the long drive through the cold December rain would be worth it. The decision to see Nancy again hadn't been an easy one. It had been a year since he’d seen her last.
|
18933
|
“Jesus Christ on a popsicle, man! The whole goddam world is watching us, wondering when we're gonna do something and here you are, just sitting on your ass waiting for...what? Goddam Godot?”
|
22032019
|
A portrait of my sweetheart drawn while she is asleep: a passed-out angel illuminated by the light of dawn coming in from the bathroom window, one of her shoes missing.
|
1377128
|
Warning: reader beware, there's sex in the air.
|
17091514
|
I see those shoes and the status they confer, and I know what they cost.
|
280128
|
Time spent in incarceration is redundant. You start counting roaches scurrying across the floor and thinking of things like steaming broccoli. Making cheese out of hot curd. Legwarmers. Arms shipments to Jalalabad.
|
114276
|
The outside world will intrude . . .
|
3800
|
That morning the birds sang a different tune. Marta awoke, ruffled in her sheets and stopped to listen. What was normally an upbeat and sunny musical number, a perfect accompaniment to the rising day, was instead awash with an…
|
87400
|
“I”, fuck it. I, I, I, I. It has always only been about me, this voice of mine, indivisibly me. selfishly and pompously. I shall not dispense with the false pleasantries other writers will offer, those writers that say, “Reader, look here, look at the…
|
5200
|
This morning you want to ask her about her butterfly tattoo. She smiles, looks back over her shoulder and says, “Don’t be so anxious. The time isn’t right. Maybe after breakfast. Besides, you’re not on your death bed yet.”
|
110366
|
|
