1406 11 6
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Observe the withered/
head atop the pole.
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2113116
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The voices he hears are God and the Devil and he knows the difference. Therefore, he is not mentally ill.
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1411116
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Unless they leave you comatose,/
it’s the disasters you remember.
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22101111
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Born in 1954, I identify as a Baby Boomer. But what does that mean, really? Who exactly are we Boomers? And how does the world see us? I decided to perform a quick Google Search and find out. I typed in the phrase “Boomers Are…” Here's…
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1732113
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“Your husband is an asshole, isn’t he?” he asks.
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17891111
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not to free ourselves//
from suffering//
but become the window//
through which it sees//
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1581115
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Thank you for the flip book with the woman dancing, bird wing elbows, knees this way and that.
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4322112
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Catullus 16 I will fuck you up the ass and then the mouth, Furius the catamite, and pederast Aurelius: you both who think, because my poems are salty, that I possess your equal lack of shame: for it's proper for a poet to be moral, no way essential for it…
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16631113
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I was seeing the owl lady from time to time when I met Caroline.
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1885115
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A compliment is candy to the heartbroken, oxygen to a suffocating flame. The best hunter picks his prey carefully, selecting his line like an archer pulling an arrow from a quiver, quickly and efficiently, then flick! the line cuts through the air and…
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1271115
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1522119
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The commodore drives a 67 Caddy rag top
All fin and boatish power
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3181116
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She got the day wrong. It was one of her usual mistakes, getting the day wrong. A Wednes for a Tues. Or a 5th for a 6th. Sometimes it took her until afternoon to realize it. Which probably meant that it didn’t make much of a difference anyway.
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19321112
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...even unbelieving prayer
muttered with quiet resigned breaths
can not foretell or forestall stains...
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28691110
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‘Last week,’ I said, ‘on the radio, there was a competition. The DJ played a sound-bite of a car going over a cattle grid, and people had to phone in to guess which cattle grid it was. I didn’t phone in, but I knew the answer.’
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13651110
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My emulations always fail. At heart,/
I don’t want bougainvillea nor blushing pilgrims
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1675118
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"I remember thinking, 'Good.'
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1890119
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Librarians are hiding something. What is it?
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20551110
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When you were nine your head fell off in the playground. Dr Mort was called. He pasted it back on with PVA glue. You'd never know now.——When you were nine your arms turned into trees. Dr Mort worked his magic with the chainsaw. You still need light pruning once…
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1710117
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“Everything is neon, “ I say.
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We must sometimes see the world/
as the pale blue dot//
surrounded by brighter dots/
and that endless field of darkest dark.
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1983117
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I walk back home, alone and without the bus fare. Distancing myself from the shadows that float interminably against the drowsy sun. Where frightened boys often roam, going in circles against the long lines of epitaphs and gravestones. Puzzling…
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1490115
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The spectacle of weather/
on the prairies approaches.
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macho bucks in velvet defy you driving down the lane
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1580112
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They frequent the open oceanbut not on this daythis day is dark and dank after aheavy rainstormI wait for them to come back tothe waterthey don't comeI wonder where they hide duringthe stormthe gulls don't fit in tree holesso where, where are they?
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829117
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Then for a few seconds, maybe even a minute or two, we wallow in a sensual shower of raw emotion. Our defenses are nonexistent and we are overwhelmed with care and gratitude. Suddenly, we love our enemies and are willing to forgive our trespassers.
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337117
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1532115
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There are no inspirations./
There are only the things I like/
and the much more numerous//
things I do not like.
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1385118
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I heard a voice. It was calling me as from a far-off cloud. I listened, holding my breath, and heard it again, though fading away, barely audible. If I hadn't known my name I wouldn't have decrypted it. Three hazy syllables clearly detached with a sigh between each of them.…
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2835116
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Last-minute women notice me and latch on, converging in narcotized spirals, old sunflowers twisting towards a fake light. Ugly, used up people, turning like dirty snow, terrified of facing the sunlight alone, of the hour long drunken drive home.
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