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That was the summer that Christine Nelson owned me.
It felt like catching the flu. I had it bad. I was about to turn seven, and it was my first time, and it was bad. A love like that, I don’t know, it’s not a love supreme. It wasn’t completely cru
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It was by the well on one cold early spring morning
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In her blanched beauty, seated in a silver deck chair, with complacent socialist ways
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Literary agents, also editors,
But most assuredly not my creditors,
Someday they won’t mean jack to me—
The people who won’t get back to me.
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It was like watching one of those vintage eighteen-frames-per-second films of someone trying to open a stuck umbrella.
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It's time, more than anything
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I remember meeting you many years later.
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If they don’t cover consequences in your gifted and talented program, you may care to research it.
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In traffic I cry bloody murder, but my bloodlust subsides once I'm in Valhalla. Chip Whitehead wants to see me on the 22nd floor before I start my shift. Charlie and the other suits have been looking at me funny since I sent Chip a memo suggesting the recession…
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as I imagine only you canyou're the ocean on fire before anyone else hasbroken that ancient seal, or simply taken the first icy plunge.You can eatall the bitterfruit there is, but that stilldoesn't make theworld a more hatefulplace. Only people…
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fuck you Charles Bukowski
go cry in your eggs in a Jersey diner
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go ahead
stick one more morsel
into that piehole
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fetal position can make a man seem small. harmless. like the child your womb won't carry...
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Rosea plays a bohemian plainsong for the cosmonauts among us, while her fuzzy apple hips spit glitter, spin strobes: pink shades of pantyline flicker; lip-licked neon hues scrape strings in B sharp, a gloomy clue.
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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...
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We may not be capable of even trying to appreciate the fact of mortality until we are somewhat older—let's say 18 years old. But, from the age of 18 until we die—and die we will; we know that—we have the opportunity to spend some time thinking abou
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The church pews were straining at the crowds who had come to see David get saved. There was no salvation in the water really, but the Baptists preached the gospel of immersion. There was a certain Baptist church in Kentucky that pressured a man who'd been sprinkled to get…
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like the dome of an immense lamp
like blades of grass at the sweep of the scythe
like a line of cliffs against a tempestuous tide
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I have a tablet called, The Shit List...
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graves left or graves lost, into silence death sinks:/it's leaving the living that leaves us such pain.
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remembering Cahokia, a place we rent near the water's edge, for we dare not enter
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“Well” I say. “What do you think about the dilemma of a guy who’s tortured by a history of incest and bondage?”
“Depends” Says Al. “On who was cested and who was bonded.
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Polylinguists lash me
with tongues I cannot conjugate
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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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44 miles out
the gauntlet of Red River pines
cast shadows pointing north.
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The nearsighted world/
puts on its lenses
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I love going fast. The last bank I robbed didn't know what hit them.
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And suddenly, I have this crazy impulse, so crazy and so puzzling I do not possess enough vocabulary and grammar skills to describe what is invisible and what is visible about it. The reader must excuse me and be attentive.
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Twenty-two tornadoes tore through Toronto, spiraling steel and stone to the streets where she stood, texting her best friend.
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