1705 4 4
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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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17052011
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The nearsighted world/
puts on its lenses
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170577
|
fuck you Charles Bukowski
go cry in your eggs in a Jersey diner
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170500
|
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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17052012
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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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170553
|
Twenty-two tornadoes tore through Toronto, spiraling steel and stone to the streets where she stood, texting her best friend.
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1705148
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Yes, he'll be quiet. Very quiet. He rocks himself, the ark, suddenly imagining water underneath him, over head, all around. Water, water, water—
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170597
|
a girl with wolves, dogs and a bear
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170500
|
In the grip of a bad dream, she bolted awake, thinking she had heard the nightsounds of a tomcat crawling around her property.
It was some dreaded hour before dawn; she had no idea when. Her small, frail body was stiff, her breasts swollen and sore to
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170520
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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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1705108
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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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170464
|
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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170481
|
The dowdy woman in fart nailed the vim.
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170421
|
What was so bad about other religions that their followers were automatically condemned to eternal damnation? The priests were so convincing when they claimed Christ was the only true way.
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170476
|
Where horses once were tethered grows their grass . . .
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170443
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“I want you to know that you are being watched,” Ernie said. “I have trained a camera on your work station.”
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17041212
|
a poem about things exploding/burning down/scattering for miles.
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170400
|
Late spring, summer before cancer. Frank drove Max and his pal Jason to Cincinnati for their first rock show. Less Than Jake at Bogart's. A two-hour drive for ska-punk.
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1704126
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Every morning, Wilma's husband Richard would cross the street and visit with a neighbor, always after the neighbor's husband left for work. Wilma was a loner, never bothered with neighbors. She enjoyed sitting on her patio in her lounge chair,…
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1704104
|
"Nice one, sir," the toilet said.
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170466
|
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…
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170421
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Sometimes it waited after dark, when everyone was asleep, and moved in slowly like a thief, working its way into all the ruwas, up everyone's nostrils, seemingly intent on making the people's mountain existence a troublesome one
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17041211
|
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170387
|
a mere forty years/and maybe you become twelve,/maybe sixty-three.
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170351
|
I have a tablet called, The Shit List...
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17031210
|
of placing the rope just so; of settling
the veil with care --
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170374
|
God damn you women get me all /
twisted up thinking oohrahrah and lala
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170300
|
The tiger-eye beads around her neck would wink at me like a nervous uncle sharing a secret with a child. They roll on her sternum like marbles. At night, on her nightstand, they whisper my secret to the patchouli-scented room. How long have they known?
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17031310
|
Sin by Nonnie Augustine After my mother died, I met Aunt Shirley. I found her in dozens of snapshots piled in falling apart cardboard boxes we hauled down from the attic. Small girls, with huge bows bobby-pinned right on top of…
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170300
|
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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