1523 5 4
|
When we were young and small we played in the orchard. Mom made apple pies and fried apples, caramel apples and apple sauce, apple cider. Grandma’s apple butter recipe.
|
1523910
|
For instance, my sister's husband. If I say brown socks, yellow boxer shorts, fishnet undershirt. If I say plastic bag and two tepid beers. And a voice that glides to falsetto when he: you're a tad too obscene for my taste, Julia, while he tries to light the filter end of…
|
152294
|
don't look at me honey, I fell on the table,
my hair is on fire, my heart is unstable
|
152233
|
That’s true, you know, what they said about the drummer and spontaneous combustion.
|
152200
|
...the fatal bleeding-out of the love receptors. They call it “Juliet's Tears.”
|
1522158
|
What's that snitch doin' here?
|
152220
|
Contemporary persecution of Christians takes on milder forms of torture like having to explain away something Pat Robertson said, or constantly having to hear about Fred Phelps picketing funerals because he happens to hate homosexuals.
|
15221512
|
Soon enough, October’s ragged/
lawn will hide its deficiencies//
under withered leaves of oak,
|
1522109
|
Cinema Verite’ is the best book of poems I have encountered since Matthea Harvey’s Modern Life
|
152231
|
I’m secretly hoping for a huge bouquet, a fruit basket, a pickle jar of urine in a lunch bag on my doorstep, even.
|
152264
|
But I had learned from ingesting Roberto’s glitter-eyed fear, it could make you never close enough, and then, never far enough away. And both at the same time.
|
152121
|
“They say she lives alone out there.” “What, like out in the woods?” “Not like way back in a cabin or anything, but in a little house out there off the road. I'm not even sure she has a car.” “What, does she…
|
1521115
|
If I felt like reading a book
then I would read a book
|
152152
|
Send me a secret story in a song just for me
|
152131
|
|
152185
|
“Hey, Buddy,” he says finally, “you were supposed to make a right back there”, and I can see his eyes flash as he reads my ID card on the dash...
|
152165
|
The clarinet and the accordion are brothers, I see. Big, fat men with curly, klezmer hair.
|
152163
|
Let’s say you know so little about me. Like whose idea of a joke to name me Hideo for excellent male. Or why I hang out at triangle Park, ogling expatriates or crusty punks.
|
152164
|
"...innocent butterflies of pollution
trapped and entangled,"
|
152131
|
|
152166
|
israeli flares light gaza/ casting incandescent nudity/ upon jumbled puzzle piece buildings.
|
152122
|
...you should pick a VERY OLD millionaire. Very old, and NOT VERY WELL...
|
1521104
|
"Nice one, sir," the toilet said.
|
152100
|
Home is where my parents live and my relatives visit.
|
152143
|
|
152094
|
Once upon a time there was a Vietnamese restaurant. And then there were two, and four, and eight...
|
152010
|
He first saw her stepping off a water taxi by the Long Docks in the rain at night, her right arm atrophied from some early childhood disease, dangling like an apology, her other holding a cigarette. Her wet black hair hung past her shoulders and her eyes
|
152012
|
An yet we are all inmates...
|
152053
|
Twenty-two tornadoes tore through Toronto, spiraling steel and stone to the streets where she stood, texting her best friend.
|
152011
|
The crowd- which consisted of exclusively men with beards and djembe drums and women with hairly legs poking out of corduroy patchwork skirts- cowered and crawled in fear around the angry man-bomb, mortally frightened yet encouraged to shimmy because the
|
