1549 7 4
|
He calls it an owl glass: he’s allowed: he’s six.
|
1549106
|
They couldn’t have done it better if they’d waved guns around in the air.
|
15491110
|
44 miles out
the gauntlet of Red River pines
cast shadows pointing north.
|
154900
|
O' madam, betwixt the pages A story professed to love A wonder of descriptive prose Delights read enraptured “My favorite book”, so you said O' madam, your heroine is flawed Wounding herself beyond measure And those she swears she…
|
1549158
|
Grasping for control over
social consciousness Because cigarettes are too deadly
and so is anorexia
|
154942
|
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…
|
154963
|
It started like this: just him saying, "Nice to meet you, Marie," and me, while I just said his own name back to him, at the same time thinking, "I want you to take me to a hotel room someday, Frederick. I think I’ll like the way you’d make me feel...
|
154965
|
It was the sodabottle glasses that scared Entro the most. Stubbled with scratches, taped with residual angst and piercing his soul with contempt he’d seen only on the National Geographic Focus Antarctica series - as Seals readied to mangle for Alpha bragg
|
154864
|
She'd still rest her fingers on your back, and her smile still lit the lantern of your soul.
|
1548175
|
I'm old enough to be her father.
|
154892
|
What is the meaning of you?
|
154874
|
-- All the guys who hit on me are Virgos. -- Like Gary? -- Like Gary. -- How could Gary be a Virgo? Look what he did with his hydrangeas.
|
154821
|
Back in the sixties, I chanced upon a list of books. That’s right. Sifting a black garbage bin, I found the long lost canon. Seizing the moment, I snatched the list, and cradled it in my palms. I felt proud and patriotic for saving such a noble list f
|
154842
|
There is nothing literal about the color of strawberries. It is a beauty too celestial for this world. It can only be imagined.
|
154800
|
That Orndoff! I'd like to shove that pipe of his up his arse.
|
15482311
|
|
154874
|
I don’t want to debate polemics while I’m sweaty and naked. I just want my hair cut.
|
1548126
|
a little bitter for the better
|
154865
|
The heart attack felt like the time Alison stabbed me with knitting needles. It made me want to see her. She was the fun wife, the first of three. I was morbid and full of regret — my drinking had driven them away, no kids in the wake. I decided to visit all of…
|
154831
|
Every damned time we came back to Richland County, I told JuneBug to just do whatever she had to do but to leave me and Skeeter out of it. And every goddamned time, we ended up somewhere like this, the two sisters hook-armed and conspiratorial, and Skeete
|
15481211
|
I'm in Joel's front yard when I dodge the third call from my divorce lawyer. I'm here for Joel; I can't seem to show up anywhere unless it's for someone else. We watch his son, Andy, push his bike up the hill. This is the…
|
1548126
|
|
1548104
|
Come, bring your sadness
to the precipice of my body,
bury it within me like a tool
|
154721
|
Naked Lady? I know that from somewhere. Then he remembered. That's what they called those old 1930's and 40's Conn saxophones, Naked Ladies. How would Smith know that?
|
154799
|
People usually take fonts for granted.
|
154755
|
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…
|
1547103
|
Occasionally I will pick up a quarterly—
As a budding poet, to do what I oughterly,
And peruse the pages for helpful examples
That I can crib or use as samples.
|
154774
|
There is a rock somewhere with the truth of the sky in it, the glitter of otherworldly charms that falsify the ugliness of the literal.
|
154741
|
The strawberries remind me of you,Fat and fleshy,Pimple-dimpled.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
|
154786
|
I haven’t read many of them, these poets
that they speak of – Whitman and his Leaves
Of Grass, Mary Oliver and her wild life
|
