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She bought a dog with short legs to make her own legs look longer.
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She stuffed the stars down her stockings
and left;
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I was convinced that enemy bombers were on the way.
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her skin the color of honey sugary sweet eyes like long-forgotten pathways to a place I can only just recall her hair in twists and her hands touching it fondling it tucking it back behind her ears as she rubs her legs against each other crosses them at…
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So I've got this head in a jar and I'm not sure who it belongs to.
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For those of you with a position cemented firmly to the contrary, I happen to think I have a great face, actually. My face, maybe I talk about my body a lot, but my face is pretty great, really it is.
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Every day the trains transported the young and successful and the not so young and less successful who belonged to the five buildings.
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In the cool, damp morning, Jeremiah trembled, from the weight of the gun, from fear he would miss.
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Too many sparrows flit and twitter here./
Let’s go inside. The sky is far too big/
and the sun bears down on us like searchlights.
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It was already dead and was hanging from her ceiling.
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And so it begins, like this, waiting to long for a lazy train out of West Toledo...
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I want nothing to do with anyone,
other than doing nothing with you.
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I was a peasant girl, believe me, and nothing much to look at--- close set eyes, one blue and one green, wispy brown hair and a chin that dominated every other feature of my face.
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I talk wands and magic and how women aren't supposed to care,
but I do, and she talks length and girth.
Her fiancé has neither,
she makes an illustration with her pinky
and says that if they don't marry within the year,
she's dumping his ass
and we
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When he leaves herThe weather is glorious of courseUnblinking sunshineHe walks awayShe touches the edge of his sleeve I touch his sleeveBlack jacket flung over his shoulder Black jacket over his…
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Talking about a Friend Over a Cup or Two of Coffee “Their first fight was over school lunches. Free school lunches. She taught Kindergarten in a public special ed center for emotionally disturbed children. The…
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We have been well and truly fucked with ideological batons
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The clickity-click of poker chips spills out to the six of us waiting for a table. We're old college buddies, drunk since one this afternoon, sporting the ball caps our wives never let us wear. We brag. About our poker wins, how easy it is to read each other, how we can…
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1210134
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Jane says to Roy, “What are you doing, Roy?”“Fuck off, Jane, I'm reading,” says Roy.“Well you could have just said so.”“I did.”“I mean just without—”“Yeah, well fuck off anyway.”“I've had…
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You generated coal light from your gait as easily as the new sun crawls through a sleepy forest, without worry over hot spillage, or who might be horribly blinded or grossly revealed or given visions in that rare moment of wet earth and…
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Steel beams. Welds painted over green. Yellow numbers of some sort. Old phone booths. Tags on the walls. I looked up and saw where bits of water fall down from the overpass. Pigeon up there. Washing his wings or something like that. Greyness. I was in a truck.…
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I worry for the daffodils/
and there optimistic yellow bursts./
I worry for the over-eager clover,//
prodigious green on crepe myrtles,/
even for the early green of nut grass.
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The line weights are spot on/
and the snap of lines is textbook/
for a discipline that died with AutoCad
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Tentacles hold fast to the small/
thrashing thing they believe is true//
which, devoured, once crushed/
completely still, turns into shit,
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