1058 4 3
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Even the fruit from the nearby orchard (which I, in part, nourish) batters my stone to rot.
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Maggie leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the Greyhound bus window. Over the river and through the woods, she thought watching the snow west of Interstate 95 melt away into skinny pines and palmettos. Brunswick 2, Jacksonville 70, slid by riding a …
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They waited not a moment longer than was necessary But moved right in and
Began their loathsome ch
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106142
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III. Through wheelwind crypts of mystery, through…
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82242
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From 'Excelsior' (fifth section) - a poem in 9 parts. So this is what begins at thirty? Thirty-five, And waiting. Those make love with water mildly, they That sink and skim the tide's meridian fingers: Brown swans that bob the blue orb's plumbing sheer. So this has…
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The pulsing of her little life. I sniff my fingers, deep sniff, ummmmm! Again! Deep back in my mind, like Momma smelled, spicy and ripe.
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We spent that entire winter with shaky hands and shrunken egos.
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He adopts a stance known as Part the Wild Horse’s Mane but calls it a different name--the Part the Hair of the Skanky Barmaid for a Bleachjob position.
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Pinnacles
State Park
lying on our backs
stoned on hash
around a campfire
looking up at the
clear see-through
blue green stars
to the other side
of the universe
I know now
you are out there
I float up to
within 2
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#1. No chocolate or dessert ads of any kind after 8 p.m.
#2. No names such as Wild Ferret, Backhoe, or Bunny Bacon allowed on the internet
after hours.
#3. No Smoky Motor Cars
It’s the New Society. All will be well, after dark. Remember, only the
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“You're bendable,” he said, and then there was this silence as we looked into the space in front of us. I understood what he meant right off and thought it a gift to speak to someone that did not get the words exactly right, but in not doing so, got…
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A dying man I'll wake, before the dawn; A dying man I'll wake, before the dawn May come and send me far away to sleep. May, come and send me far away to sleep; Before the dawn I'll wake, a dying man: Come, send me far to sleep, May, and away. …
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When I sit in the front-facing seat beside him, I feel him flinch a little and stiffen, not from fear but from aggression.
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The SS and Gestapo began rounding us up, at least those who aren’t registered, those without yellow cards, today. Rumor has it they got at least 1,000 and took them to the camp, to the barracks. I tried not to watch and only listened, only heard some of t
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The print is not ideal, it's true.
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I threw my cards on the table. The jerk was playing his classical records again. I could hear that lousy music a mile away and he was the kind of kid that makes your skin crawl. But he had a CD sound system and it was up loud this time so that the house
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"Now, here daddy was on the back porch at night talking with some man about leaving."
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I remember reading poetry in the library
/ when I was in college, after skipping
/ Sociology, Psychology, or Theology.
/ I remember thinking: What is this nonsense?
/ I don’t want to waste my time on any of this.
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You want to be Teilhard de Chardin? You’re getting started way too late.
There’s a better chance you’ll be tomorrow’s Peking Man if I bury you in the cellar.
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There existed within them the deeper perdition, of course, the perdition of culture, American culture, the 21st Century suburban version, made up of Strip Malls From Hell.
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139540
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After sportscasters announced the assassination and while the reverberations of the words were still fading people were already shouting
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127843
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Last night, in a tavern called Wits End, we dropped quarters into a console, sized and shaped like an old TV.
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"Both my parents were hypnotists. As were two of my grandparents."
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I’ve paid my dues in this dimension/
so show me where the rest of them are
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This is a story about Jim and Robin. They are strangers. Or at least they were. They are at the same party, but standing on opposite sides of the room. Robin is standing near the door thinking, “I wish there was someone here to talk to,” when she sees Jim. …
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Some great, doubtless precious;
some hollow, likely empty;
some only shards, but you never know...
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Her son was doubtless the biggest wanksta that ever went to Andrew Jackson in the whole crumby history of the school.
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She wakes up sad. She can't shit. She spreads out the foil. no creases. folds it in half. She puts the stuff in the crease. holds a lighter under it. A zippo. then smokes it. Well smokes the smoke. It's like kissing god or the…
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