955 5 5
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107844
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Betrayal of course is the great human crime. As I found out when . . . .
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10899
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Above the trees at the top of the lane, the Dublin Mountains stretch out in their low granite might, Neolithic graves scattered here and there, and the corries and ribbon lakes carved by the last Ice Age glazed by a winter covering of frost and ice.
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49465
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103354
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It was noon and cloudless when I pulled over next to the icehouse, wedged in the X formed by two dirt roads.
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113655
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The first time it happened I was waiting for the local in one of those underground stations that lets a few rays of battered moonlight through the grates on cloudless nights.
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206765
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He ran over our elderly neighbor Lenard, but not on purpose, or at least not as far as we could tell; there wasn't any yelling, I mean, and he didn't look happy when he got out of the car, though who could really tell through a bear costume.
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8677
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The poem about the butterfly that sang arias reminds me of the desiccated shell of the snapping turtle behind the outhouse. Clapboard houses and rusted drainpipes litter the highway like scattered kindling. Song of the opossum, song of the mournful. Spit and shine the…
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134233
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Behind the plastic kitchen, where the special children sometimes sit, a large boy in tight dungarees had grabbed Stephanie's hair in one fist.
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4611511
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She was trying on a few pairs of wet jeans in the bathroom, the same jeans she had tried on a few days ago, somehow imagining that soaking wet, they'd fit.Her waist was growing fast now, but, if she believed this would work for her, that wet jeans would stretch or…
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9944
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Smoke from McDonogh's timber yard rises cumulusly over the city.
Off shore a curragh with three men bobs in the heavy swell. Clouds. Green water. The splash of oars echoes.
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110477
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To tell the truth, I can’t complain. Look, lots of people have it tough. I don’t have it tough...
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125109
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By the fire in the hotel room she rubbed the soles of his feet with quartered lemons, balling her fist and running the knuckles from toes to heel and back again.
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116944
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It was one of those weekday mornings in early spring when Marjorie and I could wander from chapel to chapter house with only security guards for company.
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89522
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At the Winslow Funeral Home in Winslow, Arizona, just like in the Eagles’ 70s song “Take It Easy,” only I’m not taking it easy.
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