1513 9 3
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“You have no idea what your lives will be like if you can get out of the ‘hood. You could be driving Volvos, eating Tuscan cuisine, getting MacArthur ‘genius’ grants!”
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151321
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Bake sweet rolls and make love to your new wife, fall asleep for three years and grow a beard.
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1513910
|
For instance, my sister's husband. If I say brown socks, yellow boxer shorts, fishnet undershirt. If I say plastic bag and two tepid beers. And a voice that glides to falsetto when he: you're a tad too obscene for my taste, Julia, while he tries to light the filter end of…
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1512115
|
If I felt like reading a book
then I would read a book
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1512146
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She drinks a chocolate martini. I fold myself up and slide into her pocket.
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151251
|
"Good, it's Link Wray again,"
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151243
|
Shadows from a star
Never too close
Never too far
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1512158
|
What's that snitch doin' here?
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15121312
|
I asked him where he hurt and he said everywhere.
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151200
|
At 7:30 that evening my brother knocked on Parker's front door. When I went to let him in, sweat was running off Darrell's head like he'd been hit by a water balloon. The air was absolutely unmoving, and there was the smell of tar from the asphalt in th
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151264
|
I blame the fucking mosquito net.
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151200
|
A section of the baseball field that curved inward was filled with clear water. Birds were dipping their feet and the tips of their wings in. The sun set them apart enhancing the ice-sharp oblivion in their eyes. I swore I heard them say "Marry me.
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151111
|
"Shit," said the Charge Nurse. "Not again."
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151154
|
Everyone hoped to be assigned somewhere they could just drop in on their way home for Memorial Day weekend. Someone said, Blake, you’re single. You hate your family, don’t you?
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151183
|
the sound of ashes/ being poured in the kitchen
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151165
|
The clarinet and the accordion are brothers, I see. Big, fat men with curly, klezmer hair.
|
151111
|
1. The sparrows' heads revolve slowly when you press the red button, but the boxing glove attachments don't work.2. A weird weaving of voices, unmusical harmony. One phrase punctures the texture: “The empty slot.”3. Poems are processed into more useful verbal…
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151132
|
I’ll tell you what’s wrong
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151154
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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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1511128
|
she lifted and threw her legs out the open
side front window of the speeding auto
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151121
|
You were gone, long gone, and I could no longer smell your scent as I walked through the empty house. I couldn't bring myself to unpack the boxes, and they lurked like a forest of overgrown drab Legos.
|
151122
|
...you should pick a VERY OLD millionaire. Very old, and NOT VERY WELL...
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151110
|
I was shooting baskets in the driveway when the Mexican kid delivered the groceries. He drove in fast and loud . . .
|
15111512
|
Soon enough, October’s ragged/
lawn will hide its deficiencies//
under withered leaves of oak,
|
151140
|
“Well, aren’t you the cutest thing?”
Shelly looked around for the source of the line and one of the better looking bar flies met her gaze. He wore a faded t-shirt with a swoosh graphic that read ‘Just Do Me‘. True to its mystical nature, her indefatigabl
|
151020
|
I was ashamed of my conscience.
|
151033
|
“I honestly can't believe how much you eat, honey.”, Lenora said as I put down the fork after gorging myself on breakfast. Twelve pancakes, four eggs, two cups of coffee, a glass of milk, and half a pound of bacon had passed through my lips this morning. …
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151062
|
Eddie meets Sarah Packard, a “college girl” played by Piper Laurie. She walks with a limp, a fact Eddie doesn’t notice at first because she’s sitting down at a diner table in a bus station. She’s alcoholic and writes poetry.
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1510167
|
Nothing about it//
is attractive- its color, it’s design,/
it’s market value. I leave it be and watch
|
151063
|
Let’s say you know so little about me. Like whose idea of a joke to name me Hideo for excellent male. Or why I hang out at triangle Park, ogling expatriates or crusty punks.
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