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That was the night that everything began to happen. It must have been past 3:00 a.m. when Darrell came down from the attic right into our bedroom. I lay nearly paralyzed with guilt beside my wife, trying to get to sleep. Elizabeth had staggered to bed
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108221
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I look at that wall, it has piss-stain yellow paint and water scars from several years of leaky pipes. I say I wouldn’t mind that, if he took out some of that wall.
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86221
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She was outside the house with one of her unlit cigarettes dangling from those chapped lips, she was carrying the can of kerosene and wearing a pair of red Mary Jane shoes, even her footwear smacked of violent drawing mystery.
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217121
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The child began to think only of the reason for being there in the cave, summoned up patience and continued to wait...
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115622
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the lightning horse you never mounted in your inherited dream~wetter than the oceans you never traversed~will you ever ride pure abandon?
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74122
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I don't mind the Silence of the Lambs
so much.
It's the silence of the library
That bothers me.
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110922
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My grandma kicks field goals between her bedposts, again and again. My finger is sore from holding. She says that's all I'm good for. My finger is smudged with ink from writing my poems on her paper: half-moon rowboats, clouds like whales. She twisted my finger for …
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104921
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In moving crowds I plan to break you.
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108722
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I’ve been mentally cataloging all the various ways Myra has fucked me up. I know this is a dangerous game, strapped to our seats inches apart and hurling down the road at 70 mph, but I can’t help fiddling with the fuse.
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85721
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How can you stop a man from running naked through your dreams? I want to know. This ought to be taught, somewhere. In schools, or somewhere. I could never stop you from doing what you wanted with me, and didn’t want to either. You had complete leave of
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96920
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He strikes out with this one...
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121121
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Hollywood is the land of the slow no.
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138322
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Most people assume I’m gay, and have assumed I’m gay since I was in fifth grade. Maybe sooner. Maybe fifth grade is just my first memory of recognizing what other people believed true about me. But coming out as a gay man in 1987, when I was in fifth gra
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110221
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It is like truth on the battle field. Muted
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88123
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A nice girl is like powder, quick to anger, fresh, impudent, too quick to know what expletives fate speaks. It was a cold year for trash talk and sheer silk. And yes, the fox was smoking, who could attract or irritate a nice girl with the same look, a wom
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95722
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At the Winslow Funeral Home in Winslow, Arizona, just like in the Eagles’ 70s song “Take It Easy,” only I’m not taking it easy.
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119422
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In those days everyone ate poetry for lunch. It was considered essential for your good up-bringing and mental health. We would skip a meal in order to satisfy our hunger for words. To hell with a meal. To hell with dirty politics and meaningless wars on o
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88321
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I know what that coast was like, where you went. A coarse country filled with malodorous women that sang from the shores. Groups of nine stripped to the waist. Some with braids hanging down their back. Garden beauties. Visual porticos, with their floral
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80221
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The cabinets in D’s kitchen are a pantry of unusual sounds. It is where they are stored.
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94822
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It didn't matter if they burned or not.
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80321
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Under a conspiratorial moon… the shovel my silent partner… organ-less torso to the worms.
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95621
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Did I refer to Mark Twain’s typewriter as an animal? Did I call it a hyena? I would not say that about Mark Twain’s typewriter.
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104121
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I stared at these meteor impacts, feeling far away, a lone sentient cloud admiring the scoured yet wondrous earth-of-this-girl below me, the lean slope of her side, the soft dip of her neck, the sharp edge of her cheekbone, the monarch wing of her eyelash
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101721
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In the living room of a model home, Mr. Jorgensen lived. He was a mannequin. He spent his days in display windows. He spent his commutes displaying the latest model cars.
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114121
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they flew down the slopes
with her holding on
for all she was worth
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115121
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I kept a journal
for so many years
I've forgotten
everything I wrote.
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81320
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She's been considering her breasts more now.
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78320
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I don’t like telling stories. I’m far too honest and give far too many things away.
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98822
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Pictures of war correspondents from The Tribune, and colonial photographs in a fruit crate
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87221
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[Scumbag scumbag ― fuck you!!! Stop reading this it's my private JOURNAL!!! Thanks. ;) ]
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