Tuesday, December 16, 2014

3642.

He read "read" as "read," so he was momentarily confused. 

Tuesday, December 09, 2014

3641.

The snow came down in slushes upon him.

3640.

Her touch was a memory; her voice was a reminder.

3639.

What he didn't know was merely all he needed to know.

Sunday, December 07, 2014

3638.

The book he was reading smelled of honey, but it was about nothing but words.

3637.

She could see how sunlight rose up from the horizon at sunset.

Thursday, November 27, 2014

3636.

Her ear tasted of a slight bitterness, but her self was complete beauty. 

Sunday, November 16, 2014

3635.

He accidentally shaved off half his left eyebrow. 

Saturday, November 15, 2014

3634.

He sang long and loud as he walked through the empty house. 

Thursday, October 16, 2014

3633.

The elevator smelled of oil paints, and its floor was encrusted with the colors of ancient splatterings. 

Friday, October 03, 2014

3632.

Her hair smelled like the two shiso leaves he had just eaten. 

Thursday, October 02, 2014

3631.

The sun rises, he said, out of the ground we walk upon. 

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

3630.

The web had captured the corner's dust. 

Monday, September 22, 2014

3629.

The toilet paper smelled of melons. 

Monday, May 26, 2014

3628.

He spent the day, in solitude, remembering. 

Thursday, May 22, 2014

3627.

He was sweating already. 

Wednesday, May 21, 2014

3626.

The only poetry he believed in was the poetry without words.

3625.

A certain slant of nightlight, he thought, while sitting on the toilet.

3624.

He counted five on each hand and never counted a finger.

3623.

Cautiously, she forgot who he was.

3622.

He was surprised by morning almost as much as he was by being awake.

3621.

Without regard to sleep, he dreamt of sleeping.

3620.

He watched for her and hers.

3619.

That particular part of the darkness he found most comforting.

Tuesday, May 20, 2014

3618.

He could find no way. 

3617.

He had forgotten her name. 

3616.

He fondled the tiny wart in the crook of his arm. 

Sunday, May 04, 2014

3615.

He went to bed at 1,2:3,4. 

Saturday, February 01, 2014

3614.

She was small and danced with a cane, twirling around it from time to time.

Saturday, January 04, 2014

3613.

His face smelled of lavender and water. 

Thursday, October 03, 2013

3612.

He said to himself, “I have returned to the earth to feel the sun through air on my skin.”

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

3611.

The squirrels dropped acorn caps Around but not on him. 

3610.

He regretted, a month later, not ordering the meal finished with cigar smoke. 

Friday, September 13, 2013

3609.

He heard a woman cough in the dark, twice (nothing more). 

Monday, June 24, 2013

3608.

He walked in his underwear through the night of his house. 

Tuesday, April 16, 2013

3607.

One of his dogs had become a saber-toothed dachshund.

Sunday, April 14, 2013

3606.

The apartment smelled of potatoes, though he'd no idea why.

3605.

He warmed himself with a cold blanket.

Saturday, April 13, 2013

3604.

A half tin of sprats kept him moving into the night.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

3603.

He purred as he entered his bed.

Friday, March 15, 2013

3602.

His shower smelled deeply of water.

Tuesday, January 08, 2013

3601.

He sat on the toilet and produced only blood.

Monday, January 07, 2013

3600.

What comforted him most was dread.

3599.

He might have stayed awake for the music, because he could not understand the language of its words.

3598.

Sleep was always a possibility, never a certainty.

3597.

Maybe he could wait for it, he thought, before wondering if he were he.

3596.

He could think of nothing else to do.

Saturday, January 05, 2013

3595.

The time was ripe or right—he didn't know which.