1594 12 6
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"Every generation is a new generation, isn't it? What's so different about your generation?"
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15941911
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Girl with glasses and
skinny fingers
playing with wires
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159462
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Eddie meets Sarah Packard, a “college girl” played by Piper Laurie. She walks with a limp, a fact Eddie doesn’t notice at first because she’s sitting down at a diner table in a bus station. She’s alcoholic and writes poetry.
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159430
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But Jeffrey was flabbergasted and couldn’t explain to the officer why he was speeding. All he could manage to get out as an attack of Tourette syndrome hit were nasty, flamboyant obscenities. The Alabama state trooper wasn’t amused.
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1594105
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He was instantly on her, pulling at her nightgown
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159454
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Published writers will tell you that the most important thing you can do as a beginning writer is to know your markets! So this month, we'll talk about two of the markets open to you and your riveting but as yet unpublished prose -- Fling Magazine and Clubhouse…
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159431
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159444
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He keeps saying it,
babbles the term like he knows what it means
and we wince and interject with mama,
mama,
mama,
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159400
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Sora rubbed her neck as Azure gave her attention. She did not know where to begin, thinking about what to say first.
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159422
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Not to sound too ridiculous, but Hurt was giving me the hurt, and it felt good.
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159442
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I feel about the universe/
as Abrahamics are supposed/
to feel about their Yahweh, /their God,
and their Allah:/ I am in fear,
I am in awe, /I am in love.
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15941510
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when the mirror cracks
my eyes won't cry
it's a perfectly
respectable (romance)
between her and i
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159400
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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.
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1594127
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strung from her window to a tree
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159454
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...listening to the ache of errs our mouths had become.
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159465
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Cézanne sags during a moment of paint. There is an umbrella in the room whose surface collects his thoughts. Outside, in the rain, the grass and garden smell strongly of spring. Fruit litters the table. Light through the window writhes in conversation with shape and…
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159365
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One of the poems in my collection, One Day Tells its Tale to Another, published December 16, 2012. Available on Amazon. My first book!
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159385
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It was by the well on one cold early spring morning
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15931210
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The kid with a testosterone chip
Instead of a brain
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1593106
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Her smile dazzled me from across the room.
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1593177
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a song jolts my memory . . .
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159321
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You were gone, long gone, and I could no longer smell your scent as I walked through the empty house. I couldn't bring myself to unpack the boxes, and they lurked like a forest of overgrown drab Legos.
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159311
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Un consejo esconde un futuro desastre. Es como si Mar le dijese a Desierto "amigo...impresionante. Dejate elevar por la atracción de Luna y verás". Y Desierto le replicase "está bien, y tú Mar, deja que Viento lleve tus olas hasta el nacimiento de los ríos, es brutal". …
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159331
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I went to a drum circle next night under the full moon in May, scotch broom and lilacs blooming. One does not inhale such aphrodisiacs without losing one’s balance. There were children of druids and pagans and stregas from lands over the sea, lands beyo
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159396
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159320
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Summer nights in Boston, old cast iron streetlights.
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1593148
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Yes, he'll be quiet. Very quiet. He rocks himself, the ark, suddenly imagining water underneath him, over head, all around. Water, water, water—
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15931412
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You call your wife. “Do you see what I see?” you ask.
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159301
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She overcomes herself on the day of the spectacle, clown paint, unmoving amid a rumble of trains and screens, video logs and snapshots, live blogs from phones wet with lotion. This is Tokyo. Facial masks. Bare flaking paint in streams. Stardust.
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159365
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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,
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