1607 12 7
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Essences of bull and bison,//
stag and horse, illuminate/
the stony underground.
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160775
|
Beneath an opal moon, the open field and wilderness across it look immersed in varying shades of blue. A strong night howler blows across a little girl's face as she walks the field as if in a trance; her whole visage framed against the backdrop of this very act …
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160741
|
A tanka/haiku poem about grandma getting run over by a reindeer.
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1607136
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160762
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Sometimes one person's shelter is another person's storm.
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160744
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“Gladys Miller!” the dog shouted. “Live a little. TiVo it.”
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160731
|
I’m secretly hoping for a huge bouquet, a fruit basket, a pickle jar of urine in a lunch bag on my doorstep, even.
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160600
|
I figure maybe I’m mostly alone; they are all running down staircases or falling down fire escapes, some of them naked, some of them with towels, mostly probably naked though.
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1606107
|
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160686
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remembering Cahokia, a place we rent near the water's edge, for we dare not enter
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160663
|
Morning's first blush, their world in repose. Sated, drained, spent; …
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160674
|
I was just sitting in the corner, stirring my stories with a straw that sucked characters out of bars.
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1606116
|
A pinprick breaks the black/
and pins the spin of constellations/
around its still point.
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1606126
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Defy the impulse to grow beyond/
your means and the means of the/
place where you lie at night.
|
160641
|
A heart which is alive despite everything in the world that wants to deaden it.
|
160655
|
awoke in confusion, fear and hurt never seen before that day a year past
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1606118
|
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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160621
|
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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160675
|
He plucks the feathers and winds thread to simulate an insect’s torso.
|
160677
|
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…
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1606115
|
“I’m tired, Art” The Virgin said. She was already curled up beside their dog,
Lance.
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1606128
|
|
16061513
|
I asked the hospice nurse about maggots.
|
160632
|
Hope was beauty before I even knew what beauty was with her golden pigtails, brilliant blue eyes and an infectious smile — even after Jamie Delano flung his Frisbee, knocking out Hope’s two front teeth.
|
160588
|
It is the first day of summer, a blue-green afternoon, and we sit beneath the English oak, Quercus robur. Everything has at least two names. It is the first day of summer, or the last day of something else.
|
160543
|
Except for the bathroom stalls—you know the one that goes “Here I sit all broken-hearted”—the only poetry in the house is composed by Hazel, recited to her fawning sycophants.
|
16051610
|
A figure left the building.
|
160587
|
It doesn't take a genius to figure how he sank, in the drink, like Jeff Buckley. Like a stone.
|
160565
|
She stood there with her back to me and her dress around her ankles.
|
160500
|
When we talked about the lasagna, we were, I see now, talking about different things. I.e., I was talking about lasagna, and you were talking about almost everything but. You weren't talking about the dry, burnt noodles or…
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