1511 6 6
|
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…
|
1511 6 0
|
We may not be capable of even trying to appreciate the fact of mortality until we are somewhat older—let's say 18 years old. But, from the age of 18 until we die—and die we will; we know that—we have the opportunity to spend some time thinking abou
|
1511 6 5
|
Going to the candy store at night in the section of town called Kalliope. Riding bike, trying to get there before it closed at ten. Getting candy at that little store with the glass containers and the rows and rows of candy. Getting milk there…
|
1510 7 7
|
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…
|
1510 17 7
|
a song jolts my memory . . .
|
1510 4 4
|
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 …
|
1510 2 1
|
Back in the sixties, I chanced upon a list of books. That’s right. Sifting a black garbage bin, I found the long lost canon. Seizing the moment, I snatched the list, and cradled it in my palms. I felt proud and patriotic for saving such a noble list f
|
1510 8 2
|
Mom wraps a bulky-knit scarf around my face and over my mouth. She tightens it into a big knot in back of my collar.
|
1510 13 8
|
|
1510 8 6
|
I haven’t read many of them, these poets
that they speak of – Whitman and his Leaves
Of Grass, Mary Oliver and her wild life
|
1510 9 2
|
Cat's ass was on fire. The roof was scorching hot. Her clothes were in a pile by the door that led to the roof. She was sitting next to the ventilation duct, her hands outstretched behind her, her knees bent before her. Jim was standing in front of…
|
1510 5 5
|
The jewels were dragonflies, buzzing lazily, Beelzebub’s hair a golden meadow.
|
1510 12 6
|
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,…
|
1510 1 0
|
But that night we were happy, looking all around at the bright lights of the several cities that we could see.
|
1510 3 1
|
It was cloudy, the way he liked it -- no baking in the sun. People passed occasionally. He sniffed at the joggers, “Health Nuts,” he dubbed them. He hadn’t exercised since his last high school gym class.
|
1510 6 3
|
Another bird hits the large plate glass patio doors as I am sipping my morning coffee.
|
1510 6 5
|
I got on the Greyhound Bus at 11 a.m. and sat by myself staring out the window. I could see the reflection of my own dark beard in the window, a 27 year-old man with a huge poem bursting my heart, gasping to get out into the bright lit-up world out there,
|
1509 7 0
|
I heard this story from my grandmother who heard it from her grandmother who heard it from an uncle, who was a monkey.
|
1509 4 1
|
On the way home, “Friendly honk,” he said.
|
1509 5 3
|
Little mercy, ten fingers, ten toes.
|
1509 7 4
|
I was just sitting in the corner, stirring my stories with a straw that sucked characters out of bars.
|
1509 3 3
|
It is only seven-thirty but the night is full, gloom seizing Highway 66. There is a carcass on the road, maybe a human, slumped next to an empty ice cream truck. Several stars hang up in the East, drunken constellations scrambling to find meaning.
|
1509 9 3
|
5 Narratives From The Field Museum (Naturally) 1. The American wife asked her French husband why it took him 50 words to ask which pass they would need. He said, “Because it does,” and they argued more, each in their own words. 2. The child…
|
1509 5 6
|
facts of matters are not as they seem,/hour by hour crafty comments creep in,/another hour and "the good" is a horror:/ our human blindness is older than our sight.
|
1509 2 0
|
|
1509 1 0
|
["LIKE SAND THROUGH THE HOURGLASS ... SO ... ARE THE DAYS OF OUR LIVES!"]
|
1509 1 0
|
This must never get out in the press, for it would cause widespread panic. The priests would surround my house, not to mention the police and possibly the army. Castor Desayuno has come back from the dead!
|
1509 7 7
|
You've been given some really cruel thoughts that are not your own.You've been given some really stupid sets of rules which are impossibleto follow. You can learn to manage for yourself. Remember who youwere before they told you who you were. You've been trainedsince birth…
|
1509 4 1
|
A tanka/haiku poem about grandma getting run over by a reindeer.
|
1509 3 2
|
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…
|