The Backwards Children, and Their Dreams |
I.
On our march to the sea we carried bottles of the rarest green glass, each one filled with dreams, the kinds of dreams only...
Posted by enough already. on Tue, 29 Apr 2008 04:28:00 PST |
The Party that Meant Everything and Changed Nothing |
It was just another night, or maybe it was a birthday, or New Years. The fridge was full of shiny golden High Life cans, and they had emptied whiskey bottles, boiled the labels off, stenciled three Xs...
Posted by enough already. on Sat, 08 Mar 2008 10:03:00 PST |
Awake and Laughing |
The rain starts like a ghost walking through the neighborhood. In the front yard of a nearly hollow house three old men purse their thick lips and drop unfinished Pall Malls onto the sandy banks of th...
Posted by enough already. on Mon, 03 Mar 2008 07:18:00 PST |
In a Farmhouse, Next to a River |
He wakes up with his hand clasping a red silk ribbon, the kind you would find holding back the hair of a small girl. His hair is wet. He wakes up next to the river with a pocket full of ribbon and the...
Posted by enough already. on Tue, 22 Jan 2008 06:30:00 PST |
We Never Made Love |
We never made love like we did when I was working as an armed guard at the Children's Library. All night long with you in our bed, sl...
Posted by enough already. on Sun, 30 Dec 2007 12:22:00 PST |
Application for Junior Position in the College of Postdisciplinary Sciences |
We, in this world, need a physical anthropology of furtive gestures, of love notes hastily scribbled on the insides of cigarette packets when no paper can be found. We need to find why smirks move so ...
Posted by enough already. on Wed, 12 Dec 2007 11:40:00 PST |
A Crannog |
Jackson Carroll was born in a town called Oxford, named on account of the river in town, where oxen were forded. It was, and probably...
Posted by enough already. on Thu, 08 Nov 2007 10:04:00 PST |
