1528 13 13
|
Of course then I did it all over again. Got married, that is. Fortunately, this one worked out.
|
152810
|
They hovered and darted but, after a while, they seemed to be always around him. Lapping at him like the mellow waves that stroked the muddy bank.
|
152800
|
|
15271210
|
of placing the rope just so; of settling
the veil with care --
|
152774
|
He calls it an owl glass: he’s allowed: he’s six.
|
152787
|
|
1527139
|
Stalks were scythed to submission one stroke at a time
|
152753
|
She came to my house late that last night and shucked off her things and we slow-danced to Cruisin' as beaded rainwater slid off her black hair to the floor. She smiled an almost quizzical smile as she drank me there with her eyes, as if I was some…
|
152788
|
that doesn't need any words to arrive fully formed, or too many words to be believed in at all I should say, a little something we can simply send back and forth across your time and my space without having to talk at length about it, but being a …
|
152773
|
In every writer's room there is a bogeyman born in the closet, growing with every blot on the virgin sheet, feeding on the pain of writing, of solitude, the failure, the rage, the confusion, the helplessness, the fear, the humiliation. The narrower the…
|
15271111
|
Vera Wang I saw you on Oprah today girl. Oh no no no.
|
152720
|
The heart of those stars is a dab of yellow light.
The darkness of the blue night appears so deep
because the downward strokes of the actual sky
are interspersed with a violet that’s almost black,
|
152786
|
My ex-girlfriends live in a pastel-drenched cabin on the edge of a hemlock forest in Canada somewhere,
|
152744
|
“We don’t need to kiss.” I say coyly, morphing the angles of my body to look cute, irresistible. It would be easier if I’d brushed my hair. “Pretend I’m a prostitute.” I instruct, ”They don’t kiss their clients.” It’s a reference I’ve made before, but not
|
152796
|
Everyone loves a story of love
unrequited.
But what about the stories
of the unrequited lovee?
|
152643
|
Write power
like a purring kitten
eyes wide
without an idea of exactly
how small he is.
|
1526113
|
Now it was black line, wall, turn, and black line.
|
152662
|
Two women sat at a small round table near the sidewalk waiting for the same man.
|
152631
|
I suggested a threesome for her birthday. In jest, I thought. But here we are; me in my checkered Oxford, Katie in her red silk blouse, as planned. We're at this sushi place at the corner of 9th and Bentham. “Zuma.” I hate this restaurant, to tell you the…
|
152630
|
“Jerome always came to play with ideas. It was like he was already thinking about it before we started. I loved his ideas. It caused me to think about it as well. We did variations on a theme and there was always a goal. Sometimes it was to grow and deliv
|
152622
|
Once, I asked my father why Rex turned around three times before settling down for a nap. He told me it was because one good turn deserves another, then he laughed.
|
152633
|
He didn't want to read his father's statement. Yet still he lingered, poised over the kitchen table, where his father had left it.
|
152685
|
The strange bones of language
wander the room.
|
1526107
|
In her blanched beauty, seated in a silver deck chair, with complacent socialist ways
|
152677
|
He laughs and runs just like the other boys even though he doesn’t have a father now, just his mom.
|
152674
|
Food is silly. Eating is silly. Yet the camaraderie of sharing a table is not silly. It is sacred. It becomes silly when the jello arrives.
|
152633
|
eleven o'clock spills
despair all over
our bedspread
|
1526104
|
A Parody of Keats I stood at silent thought upon a clump Of nettles, swaying in the od'rous air- That blew from my own trousers, by the dump; That it had not blown more lent me despair. The dulcet horn gave melody, rare…
|
152642
|
One summer night, as I walked alone down the cracked sidewalk of Kentucky underneath a canopy of maples where the moonlight fell through branches and lit my path with uneven lines I wondered: where does the residue of lust and desire go when everything you want to…
|
152682
|
Liszt, Piano Sonata in B minor. I don't like it but I can't stop listening. It doesn't fit my mood, or the high plains landscape, or the early evening, pink and blue, pastel colored sky.
|
