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It’s a mistake to be here, he thinks, but he doesn’t turn around.

Gramps’ will was a fifty-year diary, all jammed onto two sheets.

When I meet his gaze, he’s frowning, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes. When saw the fury in his eyes, I thought he was going to kill him.

We were hurtling close to a hundred miles an hour through the dark.

This poem weaves human and earthly hurt together in just a few short lines.

“I suppose there have been a good many men killed in this room.”

The trees were a sign from the devil, a warning of the terror to come.

“Look down,” I said, comb in hand. “Let me check behind your ears.”

He held a screwdriver to the fleshy underside of Peggy’s neck.

He was staring at his car like you might a stare at a dog.

This is not America! It is not the America I grew up in, it’s
a joke.

I am drawn to these victims because I was there the night they were killed.

Some women have all the tit out hip out flat of the hand & tone of voice.

“Ki-Tae the famous pastor,” Jae says to her. “Can you believe life.”

It was as if my dead husband was flowing within me now, like blood.

Our remarks must be tempered by a sense of cooperation.

Don’t tell him you’re a virgin, says Peggy. You’ll freak him out.

A gift tells you who you are and what you’re not in the eyes of others.

Ambition and coincidence had led me to the Royal Theatre.

He’s got a nice, deep kind of voice. He doesn’t sound redneck at all.

His mind was a glass vase shat-
tered into pieces across the floor.

The danger of the shirt—always, every moment, it is so obvious.

The day holds a cup of milk and sits on the couch, legs tucked up.

My own experience is that the more we study Art, the less we care for Nature.

You don’t feel anything when they cut you, not at first, just the blood.

“I can’t hold it any longer. I have to pee,” I finally confessed to Viola.

I can’t see a way out of this. Things will not necessarily get better.

He studies their mannerisms, looking for clues to the psycho spirit.