... this Saturday we'll waltz across rusty-haired stones like sunburnt apparitions like superstars like Christ we can't believe it ends this Saturday this Saturday we'll tote our canoes over shallows our little piggies safe from slippage as we bask one last time in nature God's glory this biodome a luxury...

... the prices. Ronzoni 2 for 53 cents, Del Monte peaches 2 for 27. Saturday, first in line when the store opened, one man—balding, uncombed wisps sticking out, coat covered in cat hair. Each week, he bought a quart of milk, twenty-four cans of cat...

... to be enough room to park all the cars. This is what’s ahead of us, you know. No one wants to go down Sukumvit Road every Saturday night. All that traffic. They get bored.” But we do, thought Mana. We go there every Saturday night. We’re not bored. “Right...

..., aerosol sight of skies, coupon books of what was ours. on Saturday and Sunday morning commercials showing jovial kids eating mac n cheese with orange sauce and Zucaritas to cut off a foot or leg later maybe even (sorry, folks!) an eye or two. Abuela s meals shooed into the other room. at the invitation...

...Austen Rosenfeld © 2012 by Virginia Tech 2012 Austen Rosenfeld Threat from Above Two people were killed Saturday at 12:25 pm when their single-engine plane crashed into a rugged canyon near a residential...

... if i was lucky but in the end i wasn’t also see Black Monday Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday, etc. Golden Gate Empire State Sears Tower Eisenhower Interstate overpasses, thousands of them...

...Kirk Schlueter © 2016 Kirk Schlueter 2016 Kirk Schlueter Eschatology Autumn Saturdays, my father and I   chase trains out of town, burning down leaf-strewn roads alongside iron rails and clacking freight.   Eight years old, I huddle in the front seat...

... slip to your date your real occupation; or, worse, slip a chance to repos- sess someone’s house or car and buy it cheap for yourself; or do you mean a mere moral fuckup, like going Saturday night with that spe- cial someone to your favorite roadhouse, The Gomorrah, making assurances that the name...

... at 6:45 am, the coral sun peeking over the edges of buildings, threatening to blind her before dawn had fully finished its morning stretch. She imagined her day, her Saturday, a day of finding a fabric for her lampshade, and avoiding circular conversations with her supervisor in her head, and sinking...

... packed them carefully into the bed of her truck before going to teach a class, and sometimes on Saturday afternoons she d relax with a Coors while sitting on that freezer tucked against the carport s back wall, as if it contained only steaks or a anksgiving Butterball. Duke would stare at her...

..., Consumption and Cleanliness in Modern Zimbabwe (Duke, 1996) and co- author of Saturday Morning Fever: Growing Up With Cartoon Culture (with Kevin Burke, St. Martin’s, 1999). Jim Cocola, a doctoral candidate in English at University of Virginia, is finishing a dissertation...

... school boyfriend, Giulio, who I dated too long into college. I usually got up before he did on the Saturdays he stayed in my dorm. I worked on my pheromone job, making bold graphics to thread into the budding Twitter algorithms as he slept. I wanted to escape him but didn t know how. Maybe I ve never...

.... Dad called tow-trucks first, then medical people. We spent all day Saturday installing stainless steel railings in Grandma’s bedroom and the bathroom. A lady who I guess was a nurse brought in a wheelchair, a bench that went in the shower, and a bunch of plastic tubs and hoses that she put...

..., she and her mom will drive to a strip mall to buy him new Dickie's and belts and wife beaters. She's seen online calls to rename them, Wife Pleasers or Ribbed Tanks, but she thinks the name suits him. “Did you still want to come over Saturday?” Ada asks after Apollo leaves. He was here to slip...

... into a weeknight special at the Hotel Hamilton featuring a complimentary breakfast and return trip to school the following day, with more frequent flyer rewards to follow. After she dropped off Natasha at exactly 6:49 WST the following sleep-interrupted Saturday morning "because it was on the way...

... warped him,” I told my friends at our every-other- Saturday breakfast at the Waffle House. “Like, how?” asked George the investment banker. “Like, when your name is Sniff, people snicker when they meet you. Imagine having that name in third grade, or during puberty. Must’ve scarred...

... at that time may still have been termed heavy petting. When my average ejaculation of 500 million sperm shot into her hands, I rammed my elbow into the car horn. Robin laughed so hard she peed herself. She was with me the following Saturday too, when every channel on the car stereo went dead...

... then, Aldóvar had risen only thirteen times—once daily to use the bathroom, once on Thursday for the box in the living room where the marijuana was kept, once on Saturday to bring his old saxophone from the studio so that it could sit beside him in his corner and remind him of his pain...

... congratulate him or tell him to clean up. What a special boy. So smart. But wait, ZombieVoid kept track of the kills? Weekend. Hallelujah! I hate saying religious crap in my head but I can’t help it. Jacob made Saturday pancakes and fried some bacon. Pig and sugar! More religious vocabulary jigged...

... every day and marched to class, went to confession on Saturdays, attended 9:00 am mass in uniform each Sunday. They taught me acquiescence to authority, selflessness, endless rules (preconditions for fascism). As a theorist, I teach skepticism towards authority, self-assertive cultural...