He felt
his usual
vertigo
as he entered
the house.
— Joyce Carol Oates, short story "Labryinth"
(McSweeney's 29)
Showing posts with label McSweeney's. Show all posts
Showing posts with label McSweeney's. Show all posts
January 9, 2012
November 5, 2008
Story
We saved some of the story
for ourselves,
like the words
of the songs we sang,
and the contents of our prayers.
-- Daniel Alarcon, "The Thousands"
(McSweeney's 28)
for ourselves,
like the words
of the songs we sang,
and the contents of our prayers.
-- Daniel Alarcon, "The Thousands"
(McSweeney's 28)
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