by Kim Adrian
When I was a child, I had a beautiful book that fit perfectly in my hands. Its covers were squarish and addictively smooth, its binding a wide ribbon of coarse blue fabric, its pages thick and waxy. In simplified prose this book told child- length versions of various biblical tales.
by Robert Bly
Why should we worry if Anna Karenina ends badly?
The world is reborn each time a mouse
Puts her foot down on the dusty barn floor.
by Christopher Howell
It’s Tuesday twice in a row in the unemployment line.
“I’m the president,” says the president.
“I’ll break every mirror in the garsh darn place.”
by Natalie Wexler
How did I come to be here? Maybe it was that stylish blonde doctor, a dermatologist. My appointment was for nothing more than a once–over to check for skin cancer—I swear!—but somehow the subject came up. Well, okay, maybe I brought it up. She had sent all her patients a newsletter that touted, among other cosmetic procedures, something she called “lunch hour liposuction.” Just an hour or two in her office, the newsletter said, and out walks a new you.
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