1709 3 1
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170943
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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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170955
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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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170952
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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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170942
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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…
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170960
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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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1709108
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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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170887
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a mere forty years/and maybe you become twelve,/maybe sixty-three.
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170876
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The pristine Hudson's/waters dance in the dark of/the East River's rinse.
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170821
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"For several days thinking they had found a dead man’s boot beside the highway..."
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170855
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awoke in confusion, fear and hurt never seen before that day a year past
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170842
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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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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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170800
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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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170863
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I love going fast. The last bank I robbed didn't know what hit them.
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170833
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eleven o'clock spills
despair all over
our bedspread
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170764
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We became The World Famous Shadow Puppet Theater because we thought that the best way to become world famous was to act as though we already were.
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170787
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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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17072111
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The lungs forsake their love of breath. The arms/
resist throwing off the small weight of sheets.
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170700
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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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170710
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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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1707148
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Little tech puppies, well compensated for code/
that outsourced laborers will realize in supercheap,/
superchipped gewgaws, sip artisan beers
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170744
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When I got that brain tumor I hallucinated this crazy doctor. Dr. Doug. He came into my…
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170788
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Light slunk in from under a door, but just a sliver.
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1707107
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In her blanched beauty, seated in a silver deck chair, with complacent socialist ways
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170786
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My wife tells me/your dog has vomited/
on the carpet AGAIN!
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17071212
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a poem about things exploding/burning down/scattering for miles.
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170777
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fuck you Charles Bukowski
go cry in your eggs in a Jersey diner
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