1396 10 4
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Every day, a fresh new/
strain of Hell reveals itself
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addict for validation and cat tongues
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I wander toward the midnight dock
a neon sine curve stabs my eyes
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Sands In Time by Julie Noble As surreptitious as the crab creeping sideways under your patient observation, the sun has inched its way round the sky, echoing exactly the rugged curve of the Bay, and is now preparing itself for the evening slide. In its rich,…
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I call upon all cashiers in dungarees...
I call upon the baristas in rags...
I call upon those whose
sinister principles tax the weakness of their conscience...
I call upon all those deracinated by dreaming big...
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The winner was some kid from Ohio or Oklahoma -- one of those states that begins with an "O" and ends with a yawn.
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Jasmine as skeined skins… of liquid hers, by willow courts, the lychee's water wains: as apple-moats flush fawn in russet light, through cherry floats, the leopard-dots of dawn. Branch to branchlet green …
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For you have waited. And waited and waited. And soon your slice of bread will be ready.
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moonbeams unrecognized language
steadies my course
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It ain't the steak, it's the sizzle.
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His self-assurance says/
he’s practiced in the art/
of self-deception
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If there was a God he was deaf in both ears, blind in both eyes and dumb.
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Moments before they had been holding
hands, but when they turned the corner and she told him she did not want to go down the dark path he had turned also, into someone she did not recognize and could not understand.
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“Now,” my friend said. “Tell us about earthquakes. Can we expect one anytime soon?”
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The girl put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in cupped hands and this was for comfort but she appeared symmetrical the way an etheric visitor might and the brightness was just then trying to find a way through an opening in morning dining room…
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There were too many laws but not enough of the kinds she wanted. She wished for the right to go shopping. Then taste rather than disposable income or access to finance could distinguish people.
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Annie remembers clearly the smell of that classroom, the look and taste of it. Thirty little cruel girls, as cruel as only girls can be, sitting in rows of five.
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Hi fellow writersThis is a proposed start of novel.Protagonist is Flor "the urchin"her grandfather, whom she hated when he was alive (and vice versa) is seeing her life from the void, he has died.Please offer any feedback or thoughts you may have, all are appreciated.Here…
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The crumbling meccas/
gnaw/
Each fiscal year’s quota of blood and bone,
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Now comfy is as comfy does, but when sleeping strange, please accept a wide range of cradle, crib, cave.
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The trees would answer with a creak and a crackle.
Fall was near, a rotten apple.
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We should put him out of his misery.
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The next time I see you, I’m going to pretend you’re a stranger, and that I’m meeting you for the first time.
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I don't want no laugh track
I'm trying to find something that's real
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That TV you got me? Ruined. And the ionizer fan? Ruined too. All your clothes you left over here, all my work scrubs and weekend dresses too, soaked with that river stink water. I kept thinking bout all the dead creatures.
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poets can kill, or at least they once could:/
perhaps poems tamed us, if they are any good.
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