1022 8 7
|
Did you really think you were going to cure cancer with that poem?
|
1051 1 1
|
While Leif was still very young, his emotions were very easy to read, for they appeared on his parchment coloured skin, named in his mother's writing. When he was seventeen, Leif fell in love. She was a pretty maid, one of the college servants who kept his…
|
1606 6 5
|
What doesn't kill you gives you great material.
|
154 7 3
|
Ordinary guy. A wannabe. Aims high...
|
164 5 5
|
As it is with bees—so too with words. On your journey across the blank page, you travel hard all morning with no thought of the family you left behind or your final destination.
|
3 0 0
|
There are no life callings
|
1267 5 5
|
if it were a child/ it would be in first grade this year
|
1702 7 8
|
for a handful of weeks/ my father took me to/ the college of art and design/ downtown/ where i took drawing lessons./
|
1707 8 6
|
My natural blonde hair is no longer sultry. Instead of a Dietrich look, I now assume a dead on impression of Bette Davis in "What Ever Happened to Baby Jane" some mornings.
|
132 7 7
|
Then sings the Bird-Who-Prays. She mumbles softly asking forgiveness for all the sinners of the world and food for all the hungry children. He knows as well as she, she has long since lost her faith and only sings out of habit.
|
1073 2 1
|
His voice isn't familiar but his words are. He says he knows we haven't spoken in years and apologizes for it. I can hear him pacing on the other end of the line, tapping things and then a shriek of glass shattering. Really, I tell him, no need to…
|
204 5 3
|
Funny, how a preoccupation with words can make you fret, can make you fumble.
|
171 20 17
|
After a quick lunch of baby carrots and iceberg lettuce I sipped down the road to the liquor store and stocked up on a dozen bottles of Old Rasputin and a copy of the "Irish Times."
|
115 6 8
|
In the night the rain made gentle, the flood still far off, and downstairs on the dining-room table the centerpiece collected dust as the hours passed.
|
141 10 8
|
She sat adjacent to the bottle of Rioja, half-consumed, and as the week passed the dust settled on her like the faintest covering of snow.
|