1697 24 12
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One can watch the grass green/
in response. One can watch the world green/
in response.
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1697116
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I write poems as if language matters.
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169700
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“Gorgonzolla!” The remnant croaked, his eyes wild as he thrust an open hand in Jaffron's direction. A burst of energy tilted Jaffron's pod on its axis and sent it hurtling backwards...
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169731
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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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169741
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threads of Cocoa Krispies
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169776
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will we begin again?We are a wheelFirst touchfirst kissfirst heatThey fade, disappear, come back again.Spokes in our wheel.When again shall we begin again?I hold you and feel myself spincaught in the whirlwind of thrill -the world, saturated with your scent.We hold each…
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1697102
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And I don't know how long it will be until she comes outside and figures it all out.
Figures me out.
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1697179
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Words darken with smut and irony over time.
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169688
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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.
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169633
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169600
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I have never seen doubt on the face of a Roman general,' he said, ‘but when you looked at me and said “I know”…that was a certainty I'd never encontered. You have crossed the Acheron twice.'
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1696178
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When I was young and self-born in religion my aunts, uninterested in being washed in the Blood of Christ, called me Preacher Boy. I didn't pay them any attention. It was fine by me, I said, if they wanted to sit around and paint their toenails . . .
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169676
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—indistinct and foggy, my eyes lost at sea,
confined to a horizon not close to land.
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169621
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Thirty years later – and all the years in between – Alan Walton would remember how insidious it was, the anger that started that night with Quinton Harris, fifteen years old and the undisputed leader of the troop, and spread like a virus to the other boys
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169610
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That night we went out to shoot some pool at the pool hall over on Durant Avenue, which was above a bar called Kip’s. Rotten Bobby walked in with his own damn pool cue, which came broken down in two pieces. He carried it in a narrow felt-lined carrying
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1696175
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I'm old enough to be her father.
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1696106
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Her smile dazzled me from across the room.
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1696133
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—It’s difficult to say, he said. I have mood swings. Women don’t like that. They become upset.
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169676
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In the blacklight of the storm, mother would tremble, spit and sway as the shutters would clatter and she would give away her balance. It was more than my heart could bear. She would always center her accusation with, “your boyfriend is a rake and a flam.” That…
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169620
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The rocket shone in the distance. Cape Canaveral had never looked so pretty.
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169687
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Cat fight. I rush outside and swinging my trusty broom I charge the rolling yowling ball of black fur.
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169697
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Even word dancers need rest.
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169621
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The story itself is not much longer than a snippet. What is a snippet anyway?
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169620
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Summer nights in Boston, old cast iron streetlights.
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169675
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The Devil and the Holy Ghost played Euchre on Friday nights. The Devil drank rock and rye and the Holy Ghost went for Miller Lite. What just irks hell out of me, pardon my French, the Ghost began, is that nobody knows who the fuck I am.
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169651
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I want you closeI want to feel youinside me,softening me untilmy borders are blurredand I'm hardly breathing,my heart swellingso big itbrings me to my knees,I want to know thepain of losing youeach time youclose your eyes andgo to sleep anddream of someone else,I want to…
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169685
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The army was bulldozing grandmother's house.
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169632
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The night we broke into Bron-yr-Aur it was too cold to make love. I said I wasn't horny anyway. You put your hand on my forehead: Are you ill?
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1695125
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the memories return like they do every year at this time
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169541
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Third time that day, he was on me. On me like bees to a flower (or flies on shit, he'd correct me, no doubt). Sucking sweet nectar and breathing that breath — damn that breath — 'round my head, in my ear, pestering, bugging, like a bee he annoyed me.
B
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