1226 17 8
|
"Your mother does sailors," the parrot screeched.
|
76900
|
I see it now. This is like the blind flash of the mind going off inside, where memory begins to make up its own stories. And the women are often drawn, painted, sung about, while the men are not, so often. What is it about us that they cannot resist loo
|
82020
|
We were so easy, so willing to be drained, that to start making those puffed-up stories about us now, our courage, etc. would be purely misleading. Put a bottle, or glass of wine in our hand, and our panties flew off, and gladly we would have followed y
|
136642
|
Flush, a sputter, and the water level rises, slowly. Flush again.
|
1511816
|
I spent most of those days traveling by car. Stashed in my trunk was a cache of diamonds, neatly sorted and separated, bound in smooth black velvet inside a smooth black briefcase.
|
6200
|
Beautiful old funeral song, who were they? Are they the dead that I was doomed to know? Set forth my image then, opened freely in their midst, clearing away a little the debris of living. And give forth some small song, or lullaby, some allotment of man
|
4162
|
Alive! he thinks. A miracle! I’m alive!
|
540119
|
You can become a superhero at your own pace.
|
65800
|
I saw ice on the bottom of the moon last night, and I always thought I knew what it meant to go without, but this is something else again. To be without you this long is exhausting, it could wither the soul to go on like this. There’s this head hanging,
|
69176
|
Killing is art when it’s artfully done.
|
111400
|
Normally, Aidan looked like a guy. A highly feminine guy, but still a guy. He wore his hair in a buzz cut (a turn on of mine), wore tight clothes, worked out so he had a bit of muscle, but nothing over the top. And he was my guy.
|
117955
|
He ran for home, screaming for help in the silent ravine.
|
80521
|
I heard a story once that said we are all entitled to seven good years. No, wait, that is not exactly what it said. Rather, it was more plaintive and inquiring. The feeling that song gave was more one of asking the question: Wasn’t I supposed to get sev
|
17923
|
At the wave of her hand I pick up the stone. ‘Don't scratch too hard,' she whispers, smiling.
|
19485
|
Blood should be inside the body. Blood should be private.
|
