1774 23 13
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I am abandoned to the mundane/
calculations of a small mind/
trapped by small considerations
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1773164
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He ran his forefinger round the rim of the lid then sucked at his fingertip. The texture's like chalk, he thought, it tastes of earth. He hadn't anticipated this — but dipped his finger in again and swallowed. It was like scraping his tongue against a blackboard on…
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177311
|
I am in the hallway, but I don’t sense it. That is to say: I don’t feel my body. I am like a phantom, a limbless entity floating, flailing.
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177355
|
While the other kids blew bubbles, Maddy clung to my neck. She didn't cry or scream, and she held on loosely, not with the death grip some kids have. For five Wednesday afternoons, Maddy wrapped her pudgy arms over my shoulders and rested her bottom on m
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177300
|
We've got our gang colors on because we're out for retribution. T.S. Eliot made an appearance at a writer's conference on De-Privileging the Dead White Male last night, and the head of a low-residency poetry program tossed hot green tea on him.
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177385
|
And because the film is French, the camera pauses / long moments at the curve of her neck, it watches/ her finger vermilion tulips in a vase. Her new lover,/ a wisp of a man, looks good in leather./ The camera pans quickly across beige suede,/ rests long
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17731010
|
I had some words, but the truth is they don't mean a thing because whatever it is I was trying to say to you always crumbles to the ground in front of you. I had some words, but the bullying wind was stronger than me and ripped them…
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17732217
|
While you can,/
find the beautiful
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17722711
|
|
177274
|
"Merry Christmas, Willie."
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177231
|
We learned to dance beneath a gazebo / in Spring Lake Park / We were fourteen
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1772127
|
my space heater throws a pale orange light
my white candles flicker in the middle of the night
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1772139
|
|
1772188
|
She’s there, in a tin, loosely wound
beneath sepia tissue paper, a braid
to worry in your fingers.
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177221
|
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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17721814
|
Also in development,/
the anatomically perfect robot/
pool boy and naughty maid,
|
177200
|
Poppy de Witte was content to spend her summers in Cape Cod, where her family owned a small beach house considerably less stifling than their spacious apartment on Park Avenue.
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177184
|
SPOT ON OUR LUNG We sense A stillborn dawn. A furtive, lurking gray, A sleight of dusk, eclipse, that follows Us. TITANIC'S LANTERNS Upon My rain-glazed panes Wet lights from neighbors glow Like lantern beams from shipwrecks…
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177121
|
Mrs. Noah eyed the thickening clouds from the front stoop. Noah was still out in the yard kicking up sand in disgust, arguing with himself the whole time. Piles of cedar timber lay strewn all about. Maybe if they’d lived even three days’ journey clos
|
177133
|
I know I’m slipping
into my mother’s skin. I answer the phone
with her voice; her hands grind the coffee beans.
And who is this listening to NPR in the morning
while the fresh-faced girls in the neighborhood trudge toward school,,
peonies han
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1771129
|
His knife enters the Maui onion. He minces garlic and applies heat to pan and melts sweet cream butter and browns the garlic first and then he adds the onion and more heat, but it's time that will surely caramelize them. Salt and pepper and splashes of wine for the pan and…
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177121
|
Oh no, here is that Whitman man
I’ve heard he is a bounder.
Don’t look his way or catch his eye-
Just get another round, dear.
|
177154
|
Never touch David Letterman's neck!
|
17711715
|
With such a world/
one must invent a heaven
|
17711512
|
(I'd appreciate some feedback on this very weird story.) A Frosted Mini Wheat walks in to a bar...
|
1771119
|
He asked me to bury him in Vegas.
Instead, I had him cremated in Trenton.
|
1771139
|
Like many little towns, ours has an archive. It is a catalog of everything that happens.
|
177150
|
So back to Berkeley we went, and started our own commune in a huge rented house on Derby Street where we could tear the fences down in all the neighborhood backyards. We created what we called “The Meadow.”
|
177112
|
I am tired of playing the old game: Saying something old in a new way. So let me do the opposite:
|
177022
|
I flung the basketball at the hoop and Cooper shagged the ball. He was the luckiest bastard I knew. ...
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