raining. I have my own room. There is no windowshade. The trees outside are shaking. My radiator steams. ... The cold weather is coming. I am sitting in my chair with my bare feet on the desk. Papers are all ... over the desk. I am wearing jeans and a sweatshirt. My other clothes are in a pile on the closet floor. ...
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Kaschnitz SISTER-SISTER You've been dead eight years now, I say to my sister, would you like to ... know what's been happening? No, my sister says. Fine, I say, then I'll tell you. The ... Vietnam war still isn't over. I could have predicted that, my sister says. There's still ...
mud some four feet away. My father says no, it is only three feet. He was a chemist and is careful ... up. We have seen four painted turtles and a red-tailed hawk. Not to mention the trees, which my father ... remember. “Some kind of oak,” he says. He’s known these trees his whole life, long before my mother, before ...
it on their stomachs after each pitch. My Uncle Jinx talked to a policeman in a comer of the chapel. ... doing?" Jinx asked my father. "I'd say you're selling," my father ... cloaked in the pampered fabrics of the rich. Jinx didn't hold a real job. My father said ...
farts will start sounding. It begins to jump at the mere mention of bhabhi. My brother's wife. ... Thank God for her carelessness about her clothes. She is barren. So am I. My little agnostic is bowing ... infrequent fiction? Bitto. My sister. The fellow sufferer of my childhood. My symbol of Indian adolescence. ...
victrola, I practice without hope. It is like lying, to drag the cargo of a half-willing body through my ... me bouncier, my mother bobs my hair and ties it up in rags, but within moments it too falls limp. ... you. I've got something to tell. You won't believe it!" My mother replaces ...
Page 314 from Issue 20 Anyway, since my operation- To a friend of mine, my closest friend, I am ... always saying solemnly: Since my operation I've thought-you know-more about life. My best friend ... anyone. He does not love. No one loves him and no one is going to: he hasn't my good teeth. He ...
Page 172 from Issue 38 stones in their hands and burned all the stars in a furnace my sur vival ... lock himself in a room with the if of my existence the story told in laughter but it resists and ... may be to my residence here before memory had a source so that it may unfold according to a temporal ...
smeared with blood. With my saber I jab at its thighs and chop at its forefeet. It moves off and I can ... breathe again. A riderless horse now rises at my left, its hooves thrashing the air, and I bury the boy ... beneath me, my body pressed down upon his, and I pray. I glance up and see that the horse's ...
BARNACLE MS. Cornell 29 August 1904 60 Shelbourne Road My dear Nora I have just finished my midnight dinner ... for which I had no appetite. When I was half way through it I discovered I was eating it out of my ... awful paper. I may have pained you tonight by what I said but surely it is well that you should know my ...
