I was almost certain there was no one in that house.
Sometimes I saw the garage light on but, I mean, if it was electric anything could trigger it. There was a cat door and so I assumed
...
[+]
I drink from yesterday
and taste the tangible tang of nostalgia,
that golden age feeling.
...
[+]
Why can't I write the feeling
of this city?
The floors are warped and the paint is
...
[+]
I'm dead again.
Another quick trip across the Styx or whatever one wishes to call this black void and
I'll be back on my feet.
I wonder who I will be in this life.
Man or woman?
Rich
...
[+]
I'm really sorry, Mr. Hogan. I didn't mean to get in trouble. I really do have a good explanation, I really do!
It's just that I always get hungry when I sit behind Maggie. You see, she has
...
[+]
It wouldn't matter that much, whether we lived or died. It mattered to us, sure, but in general, I mean. We would be just one more frozen corpse on a mountain. Like ornaments on a tree. This tree ... [+]
Imagine standing backstage and hearing, moments before the curtains open, that the crowd of freshly trained marines had booed the last performers off stage. My knees would buckle. Janie Thompson ... [+]
It was going to be a good day,
my Horoscope said so.
The sun was out and the air was
...
[+]
It was twenty minutes before the start of class on the first day of my first year of college.
California. The land of opportunity. Maybe not completely accurate, but for a gay kid like me, it was
...
[+]
Writing is like unraveling a knot. It always seems to turn out that the twistiest jumbles are easiest to pick apart, while the simplest snarls morph into a recursion of stuck-fast loops in loops. To ... [+]
It's okay to rip flowers out
and to set fire to vines,
to pluck petals off without
counting to
...
[+]
