1633 9 8
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It is true that the college dogs spread vermin, reeked and shat on the soccer field...
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163320
|
I know you,
ladies and gentlemen
We see the near future
through you
Your factual face
as you sit indoors
Youthless
In your ordinary chair
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163311
|
1. The sparrows' heads revolve slowly when you press the red button, but the boxing glove attachments don't work.2. A weird weaving of voices, unmusical harmony. One phrase punctures the texture: “The empty slot.”3. Poems are processed into more useful verbal…
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163343
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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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16331212
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a poem about things exploding/burning down/scattering for miles.
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1633167
|
It's time, more than anything
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163322
|
What becomes the identity of a woman who has been denied all her rights and thrown into a mental institution?
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163344
|
She wakes up with rosemary.
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163276
|
The pristine Hudson's/waters dance in the dark of/the East River's rinse.
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163245
|
. . . it's all we ever want -- the holding.
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163265
|
So few dreams are the doors they seem.
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163253
|
"and I turned to you, at some joke we shared,
and saw winter ease its hand,"
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163244
|
I considered kissing Christian. It wouldn’t be terrible. I mean, it might be terrible, but it wouldn’t be awful. His teeth were a little crooked but he didn’t smell or anything.
|
163297
|
As they lay in the pasture on a warm summer's afternoon, with the sky blue, the sun shining, he looked across at her, peacefully asleep by his side. How he loved her. Their year together had been one of joy and happiness.He idly nibbled on a blade of grass, remembering the…
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1632104
|
A Parody of Keats I stood at silent thought upon a clump Of nettles, swaying in the od'rous air- That blew from my own trousers, by the dump; That it had not blown more lent me despair. The dulcet horn gave melody, rare…
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163242
|
Something was changing.
We could sense it in the circling air. A loss of stillness - and we'd been still for so long.
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163289
|
I’m deathly afraid of the pub crawls
of my ancestors, through Bohemia and Fitzrovia
because of the ghosts of alcohol already
etched inside my veins
and the headlong loss of oxygen
|
163221
|
My wife storms into the kitchen with a pink mako shark slung over her shoulder, barking "Dinner!" towards me as I sit on the counter swishing my middle finger through a bowl of sand.
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16321614
|
They are all sleeping, but I know better. I will keep watch and if he comes tonight I will be alert and ready. When he arrives he'll see the slack mouths, the graceless sprawls, hear the grunts, snorts and snores of the other women and then he'll sense me. My eyes will…
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163230
|
Chapter one I was sitting in the doctor's office. For weeks, my nerves had been on edge, and I had been feeling like he was going to have a nervous breakdown. I needed the help of a professional. It was hard for me to admit this. I was taught that a man handled…
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163211
|
We begged him to sell us some shade. Just enough for half an hour, until our bus would pick us up and drive us to our next destination, continuing what was turning out to be a purgatory tour of forgotten Mediterranean towns.
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163177
|
It's important to make a sure sound. It's not impossible you know. It's just funny I suppose, like being in a dream of another dream. All these things could be mashed and tumbled together to make us one big clay hero, someone…
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163176
|
Where horses once were tethered grows their grass . . .
|
163141
|
In mid dream, mid journey, there's a barrier we must cross, flat and vast like an ocean. We're told the barrier is a monster. To cross the barrier we must maim one of its eyes. There, rising to the surface is half a large…
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163143
|
I fear osiris with his feather rising to meet the raven in mid-air they will turn to look at me decide if I go through the door of no return into fierce landscape on my knees I will crumple into the foetal…
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1631136
|
She’s changed leaves to emeralds. Worn a shawl of inked birds’ wings.
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163132
|
Harold Smithe awoke that Tuesday morning precisely at 6 am. He did this every day for as long as he could remember. Even on the weekends when his schedule varied. Well, varied slightly. He lay in bed trying to wake up and mulled over the things he needed to accomplish for…
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163111
|
On an overcast and humid day in August, Jesus—with Dad’s permission, of course—decided to make his grand return.
|
163132
|
The night we broke into Bron-yr-Aur it was too cold to make love. I said I wasn't horny anyway. You put your hand on my forehead: Are you ill?
|
163140
|
"As the thing lurches upright, I can see now that it is an old woman with snake eyes… a dead old woman with snake eyes and peeling flesh. She is putrid and maggoty. She is coming right at us. She is my mother."
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