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Today I tweeteda picture ofmyself holding atampon. Yes,you read that correctly. It's strangethat we still talk aboutperiods in hushed tonesisn't it? Halfthe population goes throughit every month but it's notsomething we talk about openly.You know when you…
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Revocable Love It was easy lying there with My head on her left breast Listening to the strong Business-like beating of Her heart. She looked down and said Quietly, I told you my love Was revocable. I give it To many men and then I take It back. …
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I dreamt, said the Donkey, of an apricot. An apricot the size of a heart. …
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There is a rock somewhere with the truth of the sky in it, the glitter of otherworldly charms that falsify the ugliness of the literal.
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Sulawesi-Kalosi brews bitter and watery without proper care.
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"I know," Timothy explained, "he can't use it. He's a cripple." No one else seemed to understand.
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You're a good dog, she whispered to him, a good brave dog. Her face was tight with soap.
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Were the coffee and gas not cheap,/
and in the case of the coffee, good,/
I’d never stop again.
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Came to admire Kiyoko Matsumoto. Japanese. Aged 19. Lesbian. 1933. Jumped into a volcano.
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The faces of the sun remain unaltered across the
seven day forecast.
I am sweat-glued to a poem, looking up at the
wall-mounted TV in a diner in the Valley
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The despair that comes and goes is here again
I saw a woman who was holding herself
As she walked past, as if a fire were about to
Lunge out of her parts
She was in such great need of being held
The despair that comes and goes is here again
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As I lean over the chrome rail and look at the floor on the street level of the mall, I ask myself a question. If I was to fall, I wonder if it would be better to land and lie there with my eyes open or closed. Closed, I decide, would make me look like I was at peace, open…
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Mythical Itch and the Unicorns
Working Late
Jacuzzi Floozy
One Erection
Diego Rivera’s Poncho
Frieda’s Moustache
Avalanche
Babushka Dolls
Photographic Mammary
Drool
Sir Gruntsalot
Uber Rubber
Iota Pie
Elder Geese
Ladylike
Rud
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to have something, but I don't think you need anything from me. There are poems that belong in your hair and no one else's. They should be like stars that only appear every one thousand years or so, then can only be seen when you are…
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Kids said the boiler room was haunted. I don’t know if it was true then but it sure is now.
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The investigator starts by accumulating facts, as many facts as he can. He sifts through them with meticulous precision, leaving no leaf unturned, no page unread.
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Her voice mail announced: “I’m coming for three days...Make sure the dog hair’s cleaned up, I have allergies.”
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One day, he decided instead to be-pet them,
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the sun is quiet like the mountains,
the birds except for their wings
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Recently I think I became someone else.
When the alarm clock rings in the morning, it sounds sharper than usual; getting up, my feet don't seem to quite touch the floor; looking into my bathroom mirror, my face seems to be melting, sliding, my eyes dri
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Thomas Friedman was right when he said, “Much of this biodiversity in Indonesia is now under threat.”
It had been this way since gasoline became currency; I remember bartering with The Governance for the newest edition of The Guinness Book of
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They waited until the crowd was gone before making their move. Gill kept watch while Warren bypassed the lock.
“You sure about this?” Gill whispered. Voices echoed down the hall of the museum.
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On Saturdays, we pull out big white poster boards, magic markers, and draw babies.
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He calls it an owl glass: he’s allowed: he’s six.
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men sitting on stoops
women earning the rent
by working as servants
in the rich folks yard
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I feel a hand on my leg, and look down to see the little girl touching the horse on my ankle.
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"It was John-Darren who once told me that he felt sorry for women."
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