1708 5 5
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Vibrations of a cavern a mile beneath silver willows.At two in the morning beyond the Sheratona lumination of pollution intercedes realism.Cardinals and doves develop their melodyprogressively caught in beat/heart echoes,as with spelunker canaries fluting noxious gasa small…
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1708105
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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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1708167
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It's time, more than anything
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170800
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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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170833
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eleven o'clock spills
despair all over
our bedspread
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170875
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Perhaps you have heard the rumors of big money in poetry
Maybe that’s why everybody is writing it these days
Even Emily Dickinson must have heard these rumors
Myself, I suspected as much 50 years ago
And started early to accumulate my hoard of poe
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1708108
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The next time I see you, I’m going to pretend you’re a stranger, and that I’m meeting you for the first time.
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17072312
|
The skin will stay but you won’t see it,/
camouflaged by creases, tags, and curious/
deposits of renegade fat and pigment.
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17072111
|
The lungs forsake their love of breath. The arms/
resist throwing off the small weight of sheets.
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170710
|
What else, H, is there to say about heartbreak? What else could it be but our hands, cupped as if holding water against our chests, then broken into halves. Or the picture of this one, pretending to load a gun. Or this one, soaked in smoke—asking for
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170755
|
awoke in confusion, fear and hurt never seen before that day a year past
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170743
|
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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170742
|
I was raised in a big city in the slow South. I know a little about cross cultural dining and where Delta Blues collides with Sly Stone, Al Green, and Zeppelin. Dirty rice in the Dirty South. Fried chicken, collards, and pintos. Fried velveeta…
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1707107
|
In her blanched beauty, seated in a silver deck chair, with complacent socialist ways
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170786
|
My wife tells me/your dog has vomited/
on the carpet AGAIN!
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170763
|
I love going fast. The last bank I robbed didn't know what hit them.
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170700
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I had enough judgment, anger and vengefulness from the people around me in the steel town of Pueblo, Colorado, where I was growing up. I didn’t need more from my God.
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170644
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A tough enough signal to read under the best of meteoric circumstances, this is one maybe I'll keep on thinking about. I might be able to make something everlasting out of this crazy shamble for love after all. I no longer…
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170652
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This is Peter’s office. The room is small, and the wood paneling is painted white. Light colors, Peter has been told, make a room appear larger.
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1706139
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I don’t remember much about kindergarten.... The teacher’s name was Mrs. Halverson. She was nice.
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1706148
|
Little tech puppies, well compensated for code/
that outsourced laborers will realize in supercheap,/
superchipped gewgaws, sip artisan beers
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170688
|
Light slunk in from under a door, but just a sliver.
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170643
|
I can hear the echoes clearly. They are distinct and crisp, almost as though they're all on exact trajectories to me from their final bounce, without any interference. Each sound, while unintelligible, seems to fit perfectly and expectantly into my ears
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17062011
|
The nearsighted world/
puts on its lenses
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170644
|
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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17061212
|
a poem about things exploding/burning down/scattering for miles.
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1706128
|
fetal position can make a man seem small. harmless. like the child your womb won't carry...
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17062012
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The eyes, luminous and large-
each an infinite bright blue ocean
Wind ruffles feathers
My ego and vanity also/
encourage me not to wear a mask.
An aberration/
that general circumstances/
will remedy, and soon.
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170652
|
Now they are sleeping in a poppy field, sun-drenched warm afternoon girls lying on their stomachs and sides, faces in flowers, and flowers blowing, blowing. If this afternoon were every afternoon, the world would be cured.
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170601
|
This time, he didn’t admire the fish for very long. He was close to shore and tossed it up on the rocks. Before the fish could flop its way back to the water, Quentin lobbed a broad stone at its head.
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