1775 11 9
|
Be careful when you choose your muse,
for she may be a siren.
|
1870 11 7
|
Prozac, Lithium, shock treatment,
a time machine, or to ask
Oz that you grow a new heart,
whatever it takes.
|
1418 11 8
|
My father owned a penny arcade. I worked for him every summer all during my youth. My job was to hand green tickets to customers who achieved a certain score on Skee-Ball or shuffleboard. The coupons could be redeemed for merchandise which we had on display on…
|
1557 11 7
|
When Uncle Bob got sent to the Alzheimer's ward, the ladies licked their lips.
|
1445 11 9
|
Shiva and Zeus convene a focus group.
“It wouldn’t work,” the panel votes. “Those leaf eaters would strip the trees and crops if we let them come back every year.”
“That’s true,” Jehovah reasons. “Remember that plague of locusts I sent down?”
|
1888 11 11
|
I recognized the smile. It was a “I’ve got you where I want you now,” smile.
|
2320 11 9
|
|
1896 11 8
|
“Sometimes when I feel the urge to create, I don’t know whether to grab my paints, my camera, my guitar or my pen.”
“You could have sex,” her friend, sitting in the desk next to hers, joked.
|
3167 11 9
|
An old man, a widower; living alone, defenseless. It was a given.
|
2125 11 7
|
When I got out I didn't buy a new suit of clothes, step into a bar, or bargain for an hour with a whore.
|
1181 11 9
|
It’ll all make sense when you're sitting on an éclair chaise longue by the morning pool of coffee.
|
2113 11 6
|
Down South now means August cold snap,
the forties roaring my wool cap
off my head.
|
1645 11 6
|
A pinprick breaks the black/
and pins the spin of constellations/
around its still point.
|
2933 11 10
|
Bruno Hackmann and I hung out all summer, and then Joe came back from Persia.
|
1331 11 1
|
I imagined cool, wet clay oozing between my fingers when I'd squeeze a tight fistful.
|
1378 11 7
|
the moon is coming back now the shadow hovering and shiftingthe clouds a passing shroud I didn't know if I would be patient enough but now the sliver of light is increasing filling in / filling out the circle I am surprised by how much relief I feel there…
|
1262 11 8
|
and skirts, lovely batiks, swirl around your ankles
|
1578 11 6
|
Is this a place to show posterity and mortality?
|
2219 11 8
|
Erin Hoffmeyer Zulkoski. I was at work today, doodling on a piece of scrap paper. I often find myself writing my name, practicing my signature, for when I become famous. I have always written "Erin Zulkoski." Today, I wrote "Erin Hoffmeyer." This…
|
1398 11 3
|
I've written of this and I've written of that, Have scriven as you have it either that or this: But if you strive against the wind when you decide to piss, They say, you'll find up firing against your hat- Like some old Brother who was broiled when…
|
1813 11 10
|
When her husband left she was not yet thirty
|
1892 11 8
|
But it all works out. I guess. Truth is something I'm sure I've never seen before, but the more time goes on, the Less I'm inclined to believe in it. Still I don't want To be one of those giving the finger to God And begging for a showdown with an…
|
1987 11 5
|
She wears a green and pink bikini and walks real slow, poking her chest out so people will notice her.
|
1985 11 6
|
It is certain. The roofs are hats for the houses because you wear a hat in the rain or the snow or even and sometimes especially the sun. The houses are curious. They keep their hats on at night. The downspouts for run-off water are strands of hair such as…
|
1768 11 7
|
She smacked his back a couple of times with the flat of her hand
|
1821 11 4
|
Mounds of earth and grassless ground
|
1128 11 10
|
The last thing I remember is falling below the water, lungs filling with liquid.
|
1505 11 5
|
As air warms and warm/
winds stir, green becomes the force/
that surges the plains.
|
1935 11 10
|
In San Francisco, there rides at night a phantom streetcar whose driver is none other than Walt Whitman . . .
|
1942 11 10
|
Your boredoms are not my fascinations. Your boredoms Belong to the ice caves with the Mammoths, Although haven't they been tortured enough by the Changing winds? Your boredoms are far from twinkling Objects in the beaks of ancient crows,…
|