1196 4 1
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Dad must have walked around with me 20 times, the store closed around us and finally he said I could have one. They were all in different poses and sizes, with black spots. Except one. One had silver spots.
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119600
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1196107
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1196139
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No king of Ithaca, but of each/
whining, banging, dust–clouded island/
of focused, physical work
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11961711
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When he got out of sick bay, they moved him into a room with three other alkies. A kid, a tree trimmer, and a Catholic priest.
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119685
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“Hey, Buddy,” he says finally, “you were supposed to make a right back there”, and I can see his eyes flash as he reads my ID card on the dash...
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119621
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The poet paused
Pen poised in hand
A wrinkle on his brow
He’d but to rhyme the final verse
The only problem
How?
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1196147
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119676
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Regime is elected officials ignoring constituents, ignoring protestors, ignoring history
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119672
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This is what it is to feel yourself forget.
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119610
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I was shooting baskets in the driveway when the Mexican kid delivered the groceries. He drove in fast and loud . . .
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11961711
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11961811
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We can apprehend beauty only/
by framing it with the photographic/
paper’s edge or the novel’s margins/
and bookends.
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119662
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You master their secrets. Mirror adjusters... Air conditioning knobs... Fuel door releases... Changing their satellites to Mojo Nixon. But you never really know them.
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119641
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A tanka/haiku poem about grandma getting run over by a reindeer.
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119600
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We were a perfect match of broken pieces of flesh and cobalt. We moved in waves of couch plastic crinkling and clicking.
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119694
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I It's been there all week, Nose tucked into tail Comfort found between impact and asphalt II I'm still here logged out, still here Had it with the billboards the check engine light milemarkers... Just…
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119620
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Someday they'll find me face-down in a puddle of ink.
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119555
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Now as my fearful hand goes unwittingly up I search the faraway trees for the closest possible answer I know I don't know. The clever waiting beast is looking my way with an intelligent roving eye that says he likes to hit. It doesn't matter. You're worse…
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119520
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A university student who triggers a flash mob in the heart of Silicon Valley to prove her hacking creds finds herself in deep trouble when the colorful members of Anonymous Hackers prove their hacking creds to her.
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119521
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I can't rememberI woke up in the hotel room lying on the double bed staring at the ceiling. The room was painted white with one window, overlooking a brick wall, shut tight so I couldn't open it. The door leading to the outside looked appealing so I got up out…
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119522
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I sat there, observing the city people. Frowns upon all our faces. The rain moistened my heart and journal. A blind family; a trio. They used their wands to lead the way.Their faces read joy but, most importantly, satisfaction.My envy filled the damp page.
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119501
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I cannot remember what the celebration was for, but the baby was at its center. We passed him around, a sweet smiling boy about seven months old. The age when babies can sit but can't yet crawl and their thighs get plump.
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119522
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you are the most uptight pansy I have ever met
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119521
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The man was happy, filled with it, the happiest he had ever been. He was so happy that he felt he did not deserve it and he deflated.
A woman with apples for shoulders and an eep for a laugh told him that he did deserve to be happy and the man thought
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119576
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“Now we lay you in your grave
There was no way you could be saved
You hate our lord Jesus and he can tell
Which is why you will burn in hell.”
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119521
|
The logic of the impoverished was amazing. Like Rita telling me I owed her fifty cents for a token after she stole five million yen from me.
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119543
|
Prabo was late.
It wasn’t like him, I thought, sitting on the steps of the Galle Face Hotel, the Indian Ocean pounding the beach abutting the nearby Galle Face Green and spraying fine mist everywhere. Or at least it didn’t seem like him.
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119522
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“Oh yeah?" I said to Stendhal. "I found six references to women's eyebrows in Travels in the South of France. That's all you think about!”
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119554
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Time has wings. They are bright and beautiful, like those of a butterfly. They are delicate wings, and they carry the years away from my decaying mind. I would break those wings if I could, for tomorrow I turn seventy-three, and I grow weary of their ince
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