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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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100232
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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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106831
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With spring rain
And greening buds
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Every year I make New Year's resolutions and every year I break them. So this year, I'm trying something different -- resolutions for other people. Hey world -- here are the changes I'd like to see YOU make in 2014(1) Cell phone owners: No more blathering on your cell in…
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IA prophetic mile from the towering hill,tombs of ages lie.I open my eyes; I am stillin hieroglyph dreams of histories,nearby moans the sea, cold as usual, consecrated.Something created, destroyed,then in shadow, remade. The shore spouts forthold silence,…
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The trash is full. Again. I open the bathroom trash—because the diaper genie is stuffed—but there’s no room. I try the kitchen next. The lid swings open, catapulting carrot shavings onto the floor. I lay the diaper on the counter for later.
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I went to a drum circle next night under the full moon in May, scotch broom and lilacs blooming. One does not inhale such aphrodisiacs without losing one’s balance. There were children of druids and pagans and stregas from lands over the sea, lands beyo
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When Igor stepped inside the capsule, he had two thoughts: the cramped tin can would either become his victory chariot, or his funeral casket.
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The pieces of bread dipped us humans in cheese,
the cheese made by cows from our milk.
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In distant climes ’cross landlocked plains,
where history digs still-shallow roots,
From masonry a statue looms
And in her arms gay pigeons roost.
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The old man sat in the run-down shack, nursing his lobol-weed tea, and cursing the bitter cold wind outside.
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This country needs a self-administered memoir veracity exam, like a home pregnancy test, that could weed out made-up memoirs before they hit the bookstores.
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Two titans move
opposite one another
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107035
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Does God feel the same way /
whenever you practice your indifference toward me
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It’s too early in the morning to play the glockenspiel. I’ll just sit here and knit this tiger.
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—Michiko, are you allergic to cats?
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the vigilance that informs a parent's every hour had momentarily lapsed
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The flash photographs itself scattering.
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If in the course of a discussion of improvements someone says: “I have no idea” in a particular way at a particular moment, “I have no idea” will migrate and soon lots of people will find themselves saying “I have no idea” again and again without knowing
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And the urban sprawl doesn’t hesitate. All around me, I taste the aftermath of bricks, dust and dirt, freshly laid concrete slabs.
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She turned him down again. Said it was her insomnia. She was so tired, she said, she had to work in the morning, and why couldn't he understand that? She rolled over facing away from him. He sat up in bed, thinking. When was the last time? Three months ago? Four? He…
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I want to talk like Rose Tyler, and be whisked away by the strapping Docor, preferably in David Tennant form.
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Disenchanted by Chou state's decline, Lao Tzu, its archive's chief historian, Born in Li village, teacher of Confucius (The wise man journeyed far to study with him, Was told: 'Surrender all your arrogance, Ingratiating ways, your wild ambition.') …
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“Can I get apple juice and milk?” “Yes.” “And a chocolate shake?” “Will you finish all that and your food?” “Probably not.” “Still yes. Get whatever you want.” The waitress took the order. Along…
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muse of my heart, with each palace in love: / when Januaries lash with storm and sleet, / their dread dark nights all muffled in bright snows, / will you find coals to warm your purpled feet?
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eleven o'clock spills
despair all over
our bedspread
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He had a simple dream: He wanted to become a star, and not one of those tv stars because those die, those die all the time, and before dying they usually become terrible shadows of their former selves, vile creatures who exploit their own former glory...
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