1500 5 4
|
The morning of her suicide, Nonny Rice received a letter.
|
102286
|
Our painter man was killed by a bunch of snotty kids who were making fun of him. A gun went off. What is a noodle to do? He wasn't sitting alone in his world, anymore. Where was his famous straw hat? His trusty pipe? He desperately needed to smoke…
|
108231
|
It's Granny hauling her crooked soul into heaven. Guess who I stole that image from?
|
73421
|
|
107553
|
The tax man he is coming
But I got me no dough
Been looking for some new job
That’s going really slow
I bought a lottery ticket
But dropped it down the well
I went to see the psychic
She said I’d go to hell
Can’t cope, I just can’t cope
|
105972
|
Can't cope.
Got no hope.
Got no dope.
Call the Pope.
Get the rope.
|
96900
|
The woman tapped a dark plastic stirrer on the tabletop in front of her to emphasize something she was saying.
|
89300
|
I'd had a long, hard fall from the pinnacle of the profession. I made the mistake of accepting a mouse pad, coffee mug and a fleece pullover with the logo of Upchux, an anti-reflux drug, on the left breast where you'd get heartburn.
|
130483
|
He was supposed to be a garden gnome. Give pause to the squirrels, keep an eye on the impatiums. We found him at Wegman’s. He looked hopeful and observant.
|
135375
|
I was Orson Welles skulking in the shadows and you Alida Valli;
our time measured like footsteps advancing on Gethsemane.
|
118945
|
Paulette lived on the east side on Paulette Avenue. Mama dropped me off when we wanted to play Barbies. Her neighborhood was a little green lily pad in a swamp of blight and disrepair. A ghetto moat ringed around those three fancy blocks like a first line of defense,…
|
92001
|
... threads are nasty things / That snag and pull and tear the cloth / And will not let me be.
|
110522
|
Snakes have no eyelids, no hips, no lobby in Washington (some creatures do!) and little support at home.
|
984118
|
At the conference her boss showed off his knowledge of wines.
|
49643
|
Thus does time fly and we with it.
Because time flies on the cosmic scale, curious things inevitably occur in local circumstances.
|
111343
|
the start of what you predicted
|
62672114
|
Nostradamus died of gout on a Friday evening. He would be the first person in history to die of complications relating to gout. Spiked rods of crystallized uric acid pushed their way through his synovial fluid just as he composed a quatrain about the end
|
86410
|
The damaged lining of this awkward appellation is just bewitching, begging of the light test prod — OW! and then stern mastery: Introducing the cruelly hooked thumb with ragged nail, plunging up, ripping into and down…
|
184310
|
"People just weren't getting it," he continued, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and hiccuping mildly. "It looks like it's time to UP the ANTE!"
|
109953
|
All I wanted to know was: Am I coming close? You could have given me a clue. How was I to know how deep the scar ran? I always thought scars were superficial, but I was young, and willing – what did I know?
What would they have done if they had come
|
91500
|
I
A sparklerman zig-zagged across the skies, re-arranging stars in its path. How bright his stick-like and jaggy limbs twinkle, I noticed; even noticing my surprise. No longer 'simply sitting', I was.
'It is time' I mumbled. The room was melting, si
|
6671912
|
She's not a poet, but does she have to be? She comes to the reading to read the poems of her recently dead husband, for she made a vow: that she would read his work at an open mic. Now she is keeping her word. It's her way of keeping him alive or maybe it's his way of…
|
63744
|
I charm as any stone-sculpted dream: / men grind themselves to dust on my breasts / in solitude poets spill and spew /
enraptured of my adamant clay.
|
98686
|
With small and fleshy hands/
I scratch at enigmatic stones,
|
12131716
|
saw the world was a mess
I did nothing about it, poured myself some apple juice
|
11521212
|
a poem about things exploding/burning down/scattering for miles.
|
777199
|
A bedridden ward of the state,/
warehoused in a nursing home,/
unable to drive to the liquor store/
for whiskey and cigarettes,
|
109753
|
|
11151310
|
Inevitability: it's what's for dinner.
|
83120
|
That’s not just a
trinket on her finger,
that’s a rock, a fortress,
a castle. No one
can scale those walls
except Joe Sixpack,
slumped beside her
at the airport.
They’re not a match.
I give it
5 years, max.
Not even.
Joe
|
