Luis Knew He'd Run Out Of Road
Back down Aurora toward town, Dennis said, "Man, I didn't believe it the first time I heard the story, but that motherfucker was sick as a dog."
"Yeah," Ramon said, "no money, no dope, it happened alright. I first heard he took off I thought the same thing as you, but I talked to Phyllis and she wasn't gonna lie to me, too scared to lie, and that's what she said, boy, those motherfuckers came busting on in, just… Continue
Added by Robert Crisman on November 30, 2010 at 9:33pm —
So the north of me is keeping a word count, 53,187 to be exact, and the north of me likes exact, is concerned about consistency within this manuscript, wants to stop writing and go back and re-read, and insists on looking at the busy calendar ahead with a little mental head shake (dinner at McCraine's with the Kohlers tomorrow night, gig at the fine arts thingy on Friday night with a quick look in on the museum reception after sound check, bigger gig on Saturday night but at least they got… Continue
Added by Cita on November 30, 2010 at 7:33pm —
It’s the moon, alright, up there over Camel’s Hump, but it’s only a picture of the moon, so it never rises or sets and its gravitational pull has no effect on his intracranial tides, doesn’t derange him like the real moon, the moon he grew up with.
When he thinks about the moon, though, he tries to think about the real moon because the paper moon only makes him think about old songs nobody sings anymore.
His painter friend has spent…
Added by Ron. Lavalette on November 30, 2010 at 6:56pm —
This morning, when I came to my desk, late because I cut his hair first in front of the fire with third cups of coffee and the smell of him snaking up from beneath the bottom layer of my clothing, I found in my inbox a poem, from a friend, one who loves me with the Jungian reflected and refracted love of recognition and soul sisterhood, that prickly thing that we mistakenly think will be warm and "friendly."
Anyway, with the grease of his hair on my hands, I clicked on the… Continue
Added by Cita on November 30, 2010 at 6:00pm —
Once upon a December morn drizzling icy rain fell as I napped oh so sore, fitful and worn nestled with cat upon blanket numbly feeling my holiday spirit ebb away to ashes as I dreamt in front of the fire.
Shopping done,money spent with just enough change to cover rent, rude clerks and ungrateful selfish children all chased me demanding just one more piece of silver and soul.
I awoke to the sound of silver bells and a fire fight coming from outside in the pea soup fog hazily… Continue
Added by Thomas Winslow on November 30, 2010 at 4:11pm —
Zoom in, that’s it; now, just a little to the left. Elevated high above the unfathomable city streets, squatting in a ten foot square fifth floor flat the television radiates imagination; no need to use your own. Tippy tap on the laptop in the corner and the shopping’s done – later, it will arrive in boxes to be shut inside another box within a box. Outside, shoaling in the deeps of the city street, those who have fallen out of their high rise, low rent, community boxes pick up the empty… Continue
Added by Stephen Buss on November 30, 2010 at 2:35pm —
She was sitting at her beautiful Singer sewing machine, as the sun pierced through the window pane and exposed all those black shiny intricate pieces that made the Singer purr away. I was watching her every move; the stop and go of the Singer was like music to my ears. She took up sewing as a hobby, and she was good at it, but now the hobby had turned into a means of supporting herself and her two girls. Her husband would disappear at times, and she be left all alone to manage as best she… Continue
Added by Irma Bozardt on November 30, 2010 at 2:34pm —
This way please
Linoleum squeaked under rubber soles as she shuffled along behind him, her gaze fixed ahead, not daring to look up at the blinding white lights designed to induce sanity and a clearer view of reality.
Resisting the urge to pass his room, she hesitantly peered in.
He was uncharacteristically still, submerged in a dark silence that had clipped the wings of his soul and left his mind… Continue
Added by Sunnah on November 30, 2010 at 2:00pm —
"Do not give handouts to vagrants," says the announcement at the train station. And the posters on the wall say, "Do not give to panhandlers," but send your donations to the local soup kitchen, c/o City Hall... New York, Chicago, St Louis; it's all the same.…
Added by Stephen Torelli on November 30, 2010 at 1:30pm —
At Camden, the North Carolina boys were the only militia to hold its ground, even as the hooves of Tarleton's cavalry sounded through the trees like infant thunder from a storm lurking below the horizon, and they took the bullets and the bayonets and lay down in that field and let the lowcountry sky into their unbroken eyes.
At Antietam, the ground on the plain around the Dunker Church breathed in the smoke and screams and the blood of twenty three thousand men, men who kissed women… Continue
Added by Jamie Hogan on November 30, 2010 at 12:27pm —
I had lost my way or so I thought. Has that ever happened to you? The emptiness, the yearning to belong to something or someone was heavy on my mind and I felt as though I was running on "empty", as I struggled everyday trying to keep up with life and its challenges. I had allowed my life to become stale and dry - work and meaningless relationships. Many thoughts were floating around in my head, as I tried to figure out what was missing and how to get it back. I asked myself, "when was I… Continue
Added by Irma Bozardt on November 30, 2010 at 12:14pm —
It's not officially winter in the UK until 1st December and snow already covers the country, all because of that pesky Jet Stream taking a swirl from north to south and bringing us Arctic air.
Yesterday we drove to see my Mum on her 89th birthday, through a landscape of ghostly trees, white with hoar frost and beautiful in the mist, and mercifully got home again without anything falling out of the sky.
In the night the snow came south as forecast and snuffed out… Continue
Added by Cath Barton on November 30, 2010 at 5:41am —
Kate was quiet too, thinking about the night before, it had been romantically wild and crazy and would have been something to brag about at the pub with the female half of the gang if only she was ten, maybe fifteen years younger. Back in the… Continue
Added by jkdavies on November 30, 2010 at 5:30am —
Within the loop of this Tees-surrounded town, live folk we’ve met before.
Tony, to-be-published poet, and Chloë, cool and grey as granite mist, efficient, self-sufficient and part-blind to Tony’s talent, being gallery-immersed and success-seeking.
Dan: Dan loves his flame-haired, hot-wired etcher/artist Annabel; oft-times also inspires, but sometimes swims (or not) away from home, dispensing sweet-smiled sex and memories, most recently of all with Liz.
Liz, too often… Continue
Added by Sandra Davies on November 30, 2010 at 4:30am —
Holding her glass up to the light, she watched as a fleet of little snow flakes danced beyond and appeared to drown in her bourbon. She opened the window. On the ledge lay a pigeon, frozen dead from cold, offering itself up to her now it seemed as the most pitiful of sacrifices.
Turning her electric blanket to full power that previous night she had crawled into bed and proceeded to drink herself warm whilst he had remained stoically still, leaning against her window until his frost… Continue
Added by Sunnah on November 30, 2010 at 4:00am —
My Dearest Grandmother, I cried for you today...
I was in a square in downtown Narita, when a concert began. There was a young Japanese girl, the same age as I was when you passed away, who seemed apprehensive as she made her way quietly to a cold metal chair and the… Continue
Added by Brittany on November 30, 2010 at 2:42am —
I know where she is at this time of night.
She's deep in whispers, trading desire in a chat room with her lover. Her fingertips rub the keys lightly between lines of chat, and the lights are off.
Sometimes she lies in bed, murmuring softly into a tiny phone, into its wafer-thin ear, transmitting her longing in a blue arc up to a satellite and back down to the twin phone of her secret other.
In another lifetime, they would have shared a flat in Boston or maybe Newport,… Continue
Added by Gita on November 30, 2010 at 12:00am —
So I'm in the kitchen, making my own version of Shepherd's Pie with the final remnants of our Thanksgiving turkey. Chop, chop, chop...chopping potatoes, celery, onion, carrots, ginger, a few Granny Smith apples and dried blueberries, just to be different, and I even added a splash of apple vinegar and some leftover coffee, thanks to Cita! I'm wearing a long grey off-the-shoulder sweatshirt, pink wool socks and butter yellow cotton underwear, that's all...comfort clothes that are one part bum… Continue
Added by Sissy Anderson on November 29, 2010 at 10:44pm —
Let us be clear--Methadone is Heroin with legs
; you try and come off the 'Done and you're dopesick for maybe a month, instead of four or five days like you are when you get off the smack.
Methadone "treatment" is simply a way to warehouse
the junkies and keep them from stealing.
Methadone was packaged here in the '60s as sort of a "cure" for Heroin addiction, much as smack was originally touted as the drug… Continue
Added by Robert Crisman on November 29, 2010 at 10:30pm —
Two quick hops and Ramon kicked Luis's face in, caught him right in the mouth and Luis's teeth cracked like thin sticks as they sheared at the gumline. His head snapped back and then forward; Ramon kicked him again, this time in the eye, and he launched off the bed and fell on the floor with a lamp-rattling thud.
He was maybe half-conscious, lying on his back, his mouth and right eye gouting blood. He moaned. Ramon kicked him twice… Continue
Added by Robert Crisman on November 29, 2010 at 9:30pm —