1545 2 2
|
He does not read what he’s giving them permission to do to him, just signs the release.
|
154543
|
Shadows from a star
Never too close
Never too far
|
154522
|
I look down at my free of clothing genitalia and curiously note that the testicles sprout from above my erect penis, and my scrotum is so taut, hard and shriveled as to conjure squished images of a gigantic pink peanut.
|
154551
|
I want you closeI want to feel youinside me,softening me untilmy borders are blurredand I'm hardly breathing,my heart swellingso big itbrings me to my knees,I want to know thepain of losing youeach time youclose your eyes andgo to sleep anddream of someone else,I want to…
|
154400
|
“Do we really want to treat her? Is she even really sick, or does she live in a country as real as ours, but one we can never visit?”
|
1544107
|
|
1544172
|
You can tend to recognise the difference between a good and mediocre mind by observing how each reacts to a misfired original idea.The mediocre mind will praise the merely meretricious, but ignore the more interesting bad art. The higher mind will value the misfired…
|
1544147
|
|
154451
|
Some things are meant to be repeated
|
154455
|
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…
|
154466
|
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…
|
154331
|
|
154331
|
The drapes are closed against the sunlight, but Ginny can feel someone in the room. She peers through barely open eyes so as not to let on she's awake. She adjusts her position in a way she hopes mimics sleep, turns her head to the side. A woman…
|
154342
|
Although badly educated, and although the Michoacána fought to deny it, she held the complex notion that borders are not abrupt lines, simple artifacts of geography and cartography.
|
154300
|
...the fatal bleeding-out of the love receptors. They call it “Juliet's Tears.”
|
154363
|
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.
|
154333
|
By February, I had decided,
That you'd tear out my throat every morning
if it meant your favorite song would play from my neck.
|
154300
|
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.
|
154363
|
The poet said, ‘I feel the fell of dark, not day.” but day it always is. Bright! Bright!
the city claims its blue salutes; its stopping in mid-sentence at a name where fingers roam a stone.
|
154300
|
As airplanes fly low over her children playing in the kiddie pool on the front lawn, Maureen learns something else about her father's new house that lies in the flight path of an international airport.
|
154397
|
I want to tell you things you do not know.
|
154342
|
Something was changing.
We could sense it in the circling air. A loss of stillness - and we'd been still for so long.
|
1543127
|
Foolish boy, you chose
your parents poorly-
|
154398
|
I could trust that most nights I would drop off to sleep at around midnight and shortly thereafter dream an “us dream”, a how we were dream, a sensing of our bodies undulating, then moving faster, moving with the waves of a special music only we could hear, with…
|
154331
|
I’m secretly hoping for a huge bouquet, a fruit basket, a pickle jar of urine in a lunch bag on my doorstep, even.
|
15421612
|
A little poem about prison
|
154241
|
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…
|
154264
|
"...innocent butterflies of pollution
trapped and entangled,"
|
154210
|
But that night we were happy, looking all around at the bright lights of the several cities that we could see.
|
1542115
|
“I’m tired, Art” The Virgin said. She was already curled up beside their dog,
Lance.
|
