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I guess it was, you know, a daze thing: He, lightly drunk, turning red in parts of his head, in his cheeks mostly, and his chest, to which my eyes were drawn because of his v-neck douchebag shirt; and I, sleepy beyond belief, sustained like a zombie only
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Soon you too will lie down with the sleep of rain, telling them a thing or two, grown old by having lived through your youth, that is all. Lying from the side of your mouth so often that you take up lying on your side, to try getting an eyeful of the of
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“There is no future in art,
you will not change lives
with flowery words.
Please don’t rock the boat”
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Way stronger than Starbucks turned out to be.
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Momma pointed out our paintings on the walls, the signs we had learned, but when Daddy saw our friends, their wheelchairs, braces on their legs, he left...
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The elephant kept popping in and out of the savannah--which is to say, in and out of existence. It was an African bush elephant, which made this trick even more impressive.
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and we’ll have dinner
with the head of the Swollen Artists Club
and I’ll keep my mouth tied shut
with my own tongue
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I thought about how chocolate or an hour massage, can almost trump sex. Then, I bought a chocolate bar and ate it all, without consulting the serving size. It was dark chocolate, 82%, worth it in the short term--- mmmm.
I thought about getting stoned.
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For the kid in me who fell
head over heels
all the way down
the stars,
I wonder where you are
now.
Slack is harder to
cut than
you might think,
I have learned.
And assigning the middle finger its true purpose
keeps me pretty bus
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Susan was twenty-four when it happened again, but she had neither the patience nor the attachment to see it through.
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You were sitting on dark leather meringue, wearing slit ivy, epilated thighs sliding through, roots showing beneath your anaemic skin, fighting with the pale bluegreen of your veins. Quills extended from your left hand, bent about 10.2 degrees or so.
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was entering into a new phase of its existence, a peculiar paradigm of the wider world where, presaged by science, economic and political ideologies were conspiring to displace the old verities of religion and aesthetics, but where…
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“You wanna fight.”
And I say yes.
And he says –
“First, we gotta make out.”
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I remember mad strong words out of a teenager, fresh from the shower without a blouse: First! He will be my age, period! He will be the first to walk me to my room as my fear crashes to earth, final, considered.
And I will be the first to milk the w
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How long has this been going on? the admitting nurse asks.
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He wasn’t there for the beginning or the end. In the beginning, he was still a wild thing. Nothing more than a voice in the chorus of the Dark Continent, back when it was a thing of terrible beauty and attracted people like the old man; people who breathe
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“C'mon Billy, don't be s-s-s-s-scared.' said the voice coming from under the bed. Billy looked over the side and saw a pale white, bony right hand with it's forefinger beckoning him protruding out from below. The nails were yellowed and cracked. And long. Very, very…
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It started with crows. I'd walk the switchback trail to the top of the park with its outlook of the city and if I didn't see any crows I'd whistle and they'd come swarming from everywhere. I'd give the peanuts a toss and the crows would caw their heads off and peck at…
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Picking up a perfect stranger—perfect meaning dead, in this case—and shaping him into the man you’d want him to be is not so easy.
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…she smelled of sunflowers.
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Hi de ho, and hey, hey, hey; The farmer's daughter is made of hay. I went to touch her but she blew away, And noo ma hert is nae langer gay. Hi de hoo, and how do you do? The farmer's wife has a cold up her flue, And takes me away…
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The bad moods crash the door down like an overzealous SWAT team and wreck the furniture. The good moods arrive unannounced.
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“I’ve read your blog recently,” my friend told me over waffles and cold potato salad at 10PM, “and something strange is going on in there.”
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Held tight during the week, clouds now cast off their burden, flinging down a drag-net of sleet.
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No preview available due to the brevity of the piece. In fact, this comment itself is longer than the piece.
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Portions of my heart and bones
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I will go to work in the morning and no one will stop me.
I wish someone would stop me.
I don’t know if my car will start in this cold.
But if it does (it always does), I am going to drive to work.
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For the camera
she smiles
otherwise not
and
only when she is
standing beside him
But for the camera?
for the crowd
for posterity
yes
For their children
for the future?
yes, again yes
a thousand times
until her face
be
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