1628 3 1
|
The TV projects from an insect arm. It has the face of my ex-husband, smiling and void. I like to set small fires and inhale them.
|
162888
|
-Love is a rushing
of blood
|
162875
|
I got a sixth of a cow in the freezer
That’s not meant to be just a teaser
I guess all I’m sayin’
Come on home and you’ll be stayin’
Cause I got a sixth of a cow in the freezer
Got a rack and a half of ribs
I ain’t tellin’ you no fibs
|
1628137
|
Can we survive our Y chromosome?
|
162880
|
|
162899
|
|
162854
|
...listening to the ache of errs our mouths had become.
|
162801
|
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.
|
162823
|
["Mea Culpa" means: I don't care what you think, sorry is when I feel like making you hear me say it.]
|
162700
|
|
162743
|
I'd never seen a dead person before, let alone one that was living just
seconds earlier.
|
16271211
|
The cataclysm of all those photons/
mad to be a part of you
|
1627118
|
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…
|
162742
|
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.
|
162755
|
It is said that lovers find lips in the dark through secret brain circuitry.
|
162754
|
We were wild, medieval magpies,
sweaty and sweet and selfish; and so much more
than we were before I lit that first stick of spice,
|
1627127
|
Essences of bull and bison,//
stag and horse, illuminate/
the stony underground.
|
162710
|
Even when the sun is gone and things get dark, usually the moon comes to reflect some light of hope until a new dawn can emerge
|
162721
|
He finished the omelet and started in on the short stack. He drowned the cakes in syrup.
-Never can have enough syrup.
|
162762
|
Sometimes one person's shelter is another person's storm.
|
162786
|
in late fall, Rome, sans wind, sans rancor,
sans sand or rain, sans hate ...
|
1627119
|
skin cancer
walks along Zuma beach
at noon
|
162632
|
I remember when I first came to California, I heard a mockingbird sitting in a tree, calling out in the names of other birds. It was down in L.A. I was staying at my brother's house in San Gabriel and driving in every day to the campus at UCLA to go to s
|
162645
|
the beeps, rhythmic,
tell us that you're still with us
|
162600
|
“There goes that slut Kerri Stanton,” the immense woman behind the counter chuckled to her patron. “Who the hell does she think she is?”
|
162600
|
“A shibboleth is a test—a way to separate da wheat from da chaff that's as old as the Bible, but as new as the latest trend in men's fashions,” Gus says.
|
162600
|
Her fever spreads through lines of a plaid mini, over burnt milk, darkened to yellow. Fingers explore fabric folds up and into the lost dimensions of logic.
|
162687
|
graves left or graves lost, into silence death sinks:/it's leaving the living that leaves us such pain.
|
162694
|
don't look at me honey, I fell on the table,
my hair is on fire, my heart is unstable
|
162676
|
“Now we lay you in your grave
There was no way you could be saved
You hate our lord Jesus and he can tell
Which is why you will burn in hell.”
|
