06-23-2011, 07:59 AM
(http://pigpenpoetry.com/showthread.php?tid=3599)
"You take a left and arrive at the neon sign so crusted with filth the red light looks like blood beneath a scab. Below it is a door of similar shabbiness, the wood frame folding in on itself. Open it. Walk through a foyer of ragged purple carpet and the occasional dying plant, a desk against one wall where a woman with a busted nose has fallen asleep, a magazine on her heaving flat chest. This is the place you dreamed of as a boy." - Joseph Gold, The Climax
"When midnight dawns I shall be here, sitting in this same apartment where it happened, on the couch the fluids stained, the table made supple by the rivers of it. I hear whale song and make love to strange men. I empty my purse then fill it again. I am alive and I am dead. I am you. I am me." - Margaret Campion, Open Secrets
"He kissed her. Turned around. Faced a congregation of two hundred, all wearing newly pressed suits and dresses. His mother wore a large pink hat. She looked like Barbara Cartland. Through the door at the opposite end of the bridal path he could see a young man trot by carrying a bunch of flowers, their stems ragged and flecked with soil. He smiled. Then cried slightly. The congregation murmured approval of what they assumed was an abundance of love.” - Harriet Cain, A Romance Novel
"You take a left and arrive at the neon sign so crusted with filth the red light looks like blood beneath a scab. Below it is a door of similar shabbiness, the wood frame folding in on itself. Open it. Walk through a foyer of ragged purple carpet and the occasional dying plant, a desk against one wall where a woman with a busted nose has fallen asleep, a magazine on her heaving flat chest. This is the place you dreamed of as a boy." - Joseph Gold, The Climax
"When midnight dawns I shall be here, sitting in this same apartment where it happened, on the couch the fluids stained, the table made supple by the rivers of it. I hear whale song and make love to strange men. I empty my purse then fill it again. I am alive and I am dead. I am you. I am me." - Margaret Campion, Open Secrets
"He kissed her. Turned around. Faced a congregation of two hundred, all wearing newly pressed suits and dresses. His mother wore a large pink hat. She looked like Barbara Cartland. Through the door at the opposite end of the bridal path he could see a young man trot by carrying a bunch of flowers, their stems ragged and flecked with soil. He smiled. Then cried slightly. The congregation murmured approval of what they assumed was an abundance of love.” - Harriet Cain, A Romance Novel
"We believe that we invent symbols. The truth is that they invent us; we are their creatures, shaped by their hard, defining edges." - Gene Wolfe