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Jobs & Workexpand_moreThe golden-haired ones, they think they’re better than Virgin Mary.
She wonders if he will be all right. She assumes he has four-wheel drive.
You never see Westerners, so you don’t think of them as human beings.
He was ready to move on, to touch his patients, to cut them open.
His mother wasn’t there to meet him at his stop. She never was.
Our ambition was a clawing, grasping thing. It got us out of bed.
They are glorious pumpkin-skinned messengers. I hate them.
“We’re not like other species,” you say, a novelist at night.
Let’s walk down to the river, bless the paper boats and turn it all into wine.
David Lee
If life was exchanged, who is to say it flowed one way?
A goddess was offended; her altar required my virgin blood.
In my head at least, you thrive, you die in this mix of ghost and gone.
Is anybody out there? Nobody answered, and I felt archaic as prayer.
Charlie wasn’t Lena’s first love, but he counted on being her last.
Ike’s voice left behind on the shore as Tina plunges in again.
My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.
My own hunger was for a reduction in the vast space between people.
Yes, Eylon thought, he lied to Cath. Lied about his day, about the risks.
I love scientists. They’re trying their hardest. And they just want love.
Hemingway’s The Garden of Eden was edited by Tom Jenks.
“The kiels take extra time, but then you know your meats. Questions?”
The strange man expected to be picked up by aliens during the eclipse.
No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone.
He twisted like a weasel in the sack, lashing backward with his fist.
Buster’s reasons for looking after Marco weren’t entirely altruistic.
Trump reminded me of the guys I grew up with on Long Island.
They all pivoted to face us, tan mannequins on a conveyor belt.
Who needs driftwood when I can bury myself in your loamy soil.
