1486 1 0
|
That night we went out to shoot some pool at the pool hall over on Durant Avenue, which was above a bar called Kip’s. Rotten Bobby walked in with his own damn pool cue, which came broken down in two pieces. He carried it in a narrow felt-lined carrying
|
148633
|
That’s true, you know, what they said about the drummer and spontaneous combustion.
|
1486116
|
You treat them like I’m hungry.
Fix it.
|
14861916
|
severe snow storm coming. I'm looking for a parking spot and listening to Machito & Charlie Parker
|
1486107
|
|
148665
|
She stood there with her back to me and her dress around her ankles.
|
148666
|
israeli flares light gaza/ casting incandescent nudity/ upon jumbled puzzle piece buildings.
|
148622
|
...you should pick a VERY OLD millionaire. Very old, and NOT VERY WELL...
|
148621
|
They had a deal, she reminded him. If he didn’t want to wear a condom all the time, he’d have to help with her birth control.
|
1486109
|
Cinema Verite’ is the best book of poems I have encountered since Matthea Harvey’s Modern Life
|
148630
|
You’ve known her since grade school and even though you’ve never copped a feel, it gave you a strange chill when you heard boys talking about her breasts, pressing against madras or chamois with some devilish life force, or how one day she’ll fuck l
|
148500
|
I catch a glimpse of myself in the small mirror on the adjacent wall and find myself becoming shy at my own reflection, which is ludicrous in theory, shying away from oneself, but as I lock onto the few freckles I have spread neatly on both cheeks...
|
148531
|
If this is trouble, please call someone else.
|
148552
|
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.
|
148556
|
Just like D-Ray White’s tapping still bounces off the mountains if the right person is listening, Hasil’s hoots and howls are trapped in record wax like a blood-drunk mosquito in amber.
|
1485106
|
If you're a Boomer, your brain is teaming with decades-old Pop tunes that you just can't forget. The real reason you can never remember where you put your keys? Too many of your brain cells are clinging to every last lyric to “Fire and Rain,” “Free…
|
148554
|
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?
|
148544
|
I try to enjoy my bookbut the mannequins keep tapping at the windowWhen I look up they vanish Outsidefibreglass clouds are kept in placeby invisible wires——Sometimes the mannequins …
|
148562
|
Mark dressed the velvet red Stetson,
too big for his head,
like a dandy.
A six year old savior
with fringe on his pockets
flapping as he, the ‘Judas horse’
led me ’round back
|
148521
|
Boys start fires all the time— it's a rite of passage— so when your father gives you the task of setting fire to the family's trash, you don't mind, and when the flames ignite inside the old dishwasher he heaved into the woods behind the house, you…
|
148566
|
The day came shyly up to me like a rolling orange thing. Perhaps of alien origin, but not if the Buddha of our foolish hopeless dreamer inside has anything to say about it. It said, pick me up. I did. It looked like forever on the inviting horizon with trees as…
|
148531
|
Let us be stranded in the Andes and have to eat human flesh or at least toothpaste to survive! Let there be an earthquake! Let there be a flood! Let there be a tornado, a new ice age, an invasion from Mars. Only: let me survive.
|
148522
|
There’s a crack in the cosmos,
and pink is leaking through.
There’s a crack in the cosmos,
fix the sink, the toilet leak.
There are many cracks in the cosmos,
numerous. This is how time escapes.
Good grief, they’re going to suck the cream
|
148533
|
|
148585
|
collars of obedience /
discarded in the pyre /
with draft cards and bras
|
148400
|
It was like Azure was dictating the tempo of a song. Fluid in motion, and a story told.
|
148400
|
You and I will never meet. You will never even know I existed. Even in dreams you will never imagine me. Someone told me once that your sleeping mind cannot conjure up new faces. It just spits out all the ones you’ve ever seen and that’s it. That’s it.
|
14841612
|
A little poem about prison
|
148422
|
Past the pavilion, past the factory, past the underside of the bridge where the surfers jimmy their sloppy fingers over the oil barrels.
|
148430
|
“Jerome always came to play with ideas. It was like he was already thinking about it before we started. I loved his ideas. It caused me to think about it as well. We did variations on a theme and there was always a goal. Sometimes it was to grow and deliv
|
