1719 0 0
|
For you –
because you deserve more effort
|
1719 11 9
|
skin cancer
walks along Zuma beach
at noon
|
1718 0 0
|
The church pews were straining at the crowds who had come to see David get saved. There was no salvation in the water really, but the Baptists preached the gospel of immersion. There was a certain Baptist church in Kentucky that pressured a man who'd been sprinkled to get…
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1718 7 5
|
If the Titanic rises from the bottom of the sea,
I will meet you on deck, in a deck chair.
Fully dressed for a change.
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1718 5 4
|
I said, “That bird is hungry.”
The sparrow was eying both of us
At our separate outside café tables
As it hopped around looking for crumbs.
Then it would look up at us
Expectantly.
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1718 4 2
|
I was raised in a big city in the slow South. I know a little about cross cultural dining and where Delta Blues collides with Sly Stone, Al Green, and Zeppelin. Dirty rice in the Dirty South. Fried chicken, collards, and pintos. Fried velveeta…
|
1718 5 4
|
My old buddy Snoop Dogg saunters into the room, and we go through a handshake routine that takes over ten minutes, ending with double-backflips and some brotherly penis swordplay.
|
1718 2 2
|
He just had to tell somebody. Anybody.
So he called up his publisher, L., who agreed to meet him at Oliveira’s for a drink. It only took about ten minutes to walk there from his big duplex in the Elmwood, where he was still living with his wife among
|
1718 5 3
|
Twenty-two tornadoes tore through Toronto, spiraling steel and stone to the streets where she stood, texting her best friend.
|
1718 2 0
|
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.
|
1718 1 1
|
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1718 6 5
|
In your mouth is the attic studio
Where your father’s brushes lie wet with water
|
1718 11 8
|
He liked to take pictures of her, and she liked to pose. It made her horny, she said.
|
1718 2 1
|
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
|
1717 5 5
|
I keep my love for you in me, /
like the egg of a worm,
|
1717 10 7
|
|
1717 6 3
|
"...easier to get milk from a male tiger than mercy from him."
|
1717 9 4
|
Creep up behind me one day and prick my skin. I promise you won’t draw blood – for it is ink that will spurt from my veins.
|
1717 7 4
|
He calls it an owl glass: he’s allowed: he’s six.
|
1717 15 4
|
This cell the sole certainty,
all else steeped in mystery.
Why should we be here?
|
1717 12 10
|
The kid with a testosterone chip
Instead of a brain
|
1717 8 3
|
the sound of ashes/ being poured in the kitchen
|
1717 13 4
|
Jane says to Roy, “What are you doing, Roy?”“Fuck off, Jane, I'm reading,” says Roy.“Well you could have just said so.”“I did.”“I mean just without—”“Yeah, well fuck off anyway.”“I've had…
|
1717 7 4
|
Food is silly. Eating is silly. Yet the camaraderie of sharing a table is not silly. It is sacred. It becomes silly when the jello arrives.
|
1717 0 0
|
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
|
1716 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…
|
1716 12 10
|
of placing the rope just so; of settling
the veil with care --
|
1716 8 4
|
(the vast preponderance of dark matter and dark energy discernible in these latter days begins to suggest just how dark the humor of existence is) . . .
|
1716 5 3
|
For reasons he couldn't fathom, his motorcycle only moved in reverse. He engaged the engine and lurched backward hard. He called a friend, a gear-head with perpetually dirty nails, asked him to look it over.
|
1716 11 6
|
A pinprick breaks the black/
and pins the spin of constellations/
around its still point.
|