1683 7 7
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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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168376
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In human rights, a man and a woman may marry and bring forth a family. It is a civil right in the U.S. but not a human right (as far as I know) to raise a child singly without the knowledge of the other parent.
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168344
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It was a dark and stormy night.
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168354
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facts are facets are / things in the act // the truth speaks softly // as time saying amber / to the enduring sap // words come and go / like leaves like men // we the tree remain ...
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168377
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We are/no more than heartbeats on repeat.
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168388
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-Love is a rushing
of blood
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168344
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Momma takes us to the candle store next door where everything smells sweet
as she opens, closes glass lids, lets us lean our faces close, smell pumpkin, lavender,
trees...
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168311
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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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1683138
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I worry for the daffodils/
and there optimistic yellow bursts./
I worry for the over-eager clover,//
prodigious green on crepe myrtles,/
even for the early green of nut grass.
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168372
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"Penning a slight of tongue well versed
or worse, a salacious lie..."
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168322
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...you should pick a VERY OLD millionaire. Very old, and NOT VERY WELL...
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1683128
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Trigger warning: casualties of war.
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16831211
|
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168255
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I keep my love for you in me, /
like the egg of a worm,
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168200
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“There goes that slut Kerri Stanton,” the immense woman behind the counter chuckled to her patron. “Who the hell does she think she is?”
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168253
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All I wanted to know was: Am I coming close? You could have given me a clue. How was I to know how deep the scar ran? I always thought scars were superficial, but I was young, and willing – what did I know?
What would they have done if they had come
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168265
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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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168200
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I met Barry Hannah once in my life. I’d come to Oxford, MS, to meet an entirely different writer whom I thought then and think now very highly of. I’d also come to escape from another slew of regrets. Oxford is a great city to run away to.
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168265
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The clarinet and the accordion are brothers, I see. Big, fat men with curly, klezmer hair.
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168275
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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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168220
|
It is a dark and stormy night, naturally
We’re trying to get some sleep
at a Travelodge in Eureka
when I get up at 3 a.m. to write
“Hard motel pillow receives snoring from neighboring room”
O Thesaurus, we need another word
Maybe it sh
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168211
|
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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168200
|
|
1682124
|
Xanax, A hand gun, And the courage to pull the trigger
|
168220
|
He gave her cancer. He gave her cancer.
Not what she said. She said her relationship gave her cancer. Her relationship with him. Gave her cancer.
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168112
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["GET UP, GET GET, GET DOWN ... 9-11'S A JOKE IN *your* TOWN!"]
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168154
|
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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1681198
|
A proper study of human history should
lead the student to an inescapable desire
to commit suicide
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1681118
|
None of this is real, he says, and the path slopes down to a house that is possibly haunted. One always looks in such windows, one cannot not look at the predictable detritus of another's failure, a queer satisfaction, a fairy's dust. But no, not real, none of it. And…
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168152
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Now they are sleeping in a poppy field, sun-drenched warm afternoon girls lying on their stomachs and sides, faces in flowers, and flowers blowing, blowing. If this afternoon were every afternoon, the world would be cured.
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