772 1 0
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Michelangelo's David will gird his loins, Rodin's Thinker will look up in wonder, because you are a Pygmalion; a Hermione.
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22153
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Ray is standing in front of the grave stone and staring at his friend’s name. He has been doing this every year now for eight years, every September 11 at exactly 8:46am. And every year he looks at the ground that holds his friend’s body and asks the
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48283
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...the peel feeds through her fingers in a tantalising spiral that is devoured by the eyes at her feet...
[164 words]
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5181
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Midnight in Barcelona, in a small tavern, clean, well lighted. A lone bearded man hovers thoughtfully, elbows akimbo above the white linen covering the small table where he sits contemplating the empty wine cups thereon.
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9641
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See, you ask me what's going on, and I know you mean, tell me something good, but not much is going on. No stories to tell. Not one you'd want to hear, unless you count what happened two days ago and that's not really a story.
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5240
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...dreams conceive a folk who grow through laughing, weeping, drooping eyes until her salted words are spent ...
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2331
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When she opens the door, I say hi and introduce her to my friend, a bottle of J.T.S. Brown. She laughs and tells me to come on in before I fall down..
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160988
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Men and women should always be seated alternately around the table, unless you are having dinner with your parents, in which case it would be best to sit him next to your father, not your mother, who would start staring at the mole on the side of his neck
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11042
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I’m driving and I see this guy walking along the sidewalk dressed like the Tin Man.
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87711
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You can tell
Noah hates
his job
and stares off
into space
not thinking of
birds
or land anymore
or the stars
just that wide
wide water
that won’t go
away
and why in the vast
flooded
damned
world
he was the one
w
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945146
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He looked up and read in her expression something unmistakable: pleasure.
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6851713
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You slide a piece of popcorn past your lips. I want to grab a handful and cram it into my mouth, perhaps I want to ram my face into the bowl, shake my head and watch the pieces fly... [669 words] (Explicit language).
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101163
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On the phone I asked my mother how she was doing.
“I’m getting old,” she said. “Going slow. But getting there. I’m ninety-four!”
My mother was always 94, when she was really 93. I remember she was 93 right after she turned 92. And 92
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39864
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She fights the need to close her eyes. Ridiculous. This is no childbirth stitch, no surgeon's slice — this is pleasure...
[863 words]
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1500
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There is a song in this, I think, a song that revels in the rich and silken boughs, the raptured air, the sleepy stretch of limbs and back.
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