1658 10 6
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People Who Go to Poems for Truth
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165821
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The leaves were meaningless because they were no longer connected to the trees.
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165865
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I dragged you that last half mile Me such a slip of a thing, one bite mark visible You the bear, your growl now only audible When you furred from kerb to road to kerb The December snow followed us Dragging Christmas red behind you As I ignored my…
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165811
|
There is no cement stronger than the one holding a miserable couple together.
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165834
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What I Love About HistoryMy roommate, Cara, wears all black, which she thinks scares me. I've never bothered to tell her I wore all black for two years, eighth and ninth grade, and I'm just over it, not that I think she's lame or passé, but there's nothing remotely…
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165885
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165743
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Write power
like a purring kitten
eyes wide
without an idea of exactly
how small he is.
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165773
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I did do one nice thing for you
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165752
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“I would like to keep my head, at least for a few more nights. Didn't you say we were gonna have sex one of these days? Isn't that in the manual?”
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165752
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jaws blossoming with drool,/ a captured wolf slinks low/ across the crowded land/ for that most tender lamb/ to catch it by surprise.
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165720
|
The building ejects my condominium like an enormous videocassette.
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16572714
|
Its intelligence won’t be/
diminished when you take/
a bone saw to its cranium
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165776
|
I keep attempting to start a correspondence with people / but they end up not being interested in me, / either that or I scare them away / because I usually begin with: / “Well, my favorite philosopher is Hegel..."
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165798
|
we name invasive species,
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165742
|
The following is a true story, or rather it is a true experience from the story of my life. Some say that just because something happens doesn’t really make it “true”.
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165764
|
bassackward/in the surreal/bathroom mirror
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165777
|
A new philosophy stirs in its surgery.
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165700
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... and photos of friends from former lives: the Wolfman; Drac; the Mummy; my ungrateful Son; even my gold-digging, coat-tailer ex-wife.
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1657107
|
The tech turns off the music. The capsule blares. I am in Jurassic Park with Sam Neill. I am Timmy, descending the electrified fence, almost toast. I am Karen Silkwood, a deer in the headlights, then showering off plutonium. A garbage truck is compacting
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165700
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From Berlin to Arcturus. I squeeze Sevigny’s wrist, wish Izzy could be here, but she’s melting salt in Utah. We were on our way to Los Angeles. I’ve booked the horror room.
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165733
|
The questions we ask ourselves define who we are as a culture. “What is the meaning of life?” “Is there a God?” “Does anybody really know what time it is?” “Where the hell did I put my car keys?” To see what…
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165774
|
They were
obviously having
some secret
beach affair.
|
165610
|
She took a deep breath. Last night, she said, Who was the woman?
|
165674
|
They found it naught however as it was lost at metro stops, canceled appointments and in ever dimming light that failed to reflect what was instead of what could have been.
|
165600
|
Takashi and Hideki stared at the pool of grey Mana. A scientist carefully contained some of the mist into a container.
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1656148
|
Six months later, she was teaching theology / to refugees from est.
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165632
|
I turned a maiden to a witch / and back again
|
165671
|
Things don't always go to plan. Gem knew what people would have said back then, of course. She wasn't stupid.
|
165631
|
He came to a spot on the edge of the strawberry fields where he liked to sit with his brother and watch the turkey buzzards circle overhead
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1656189
|
The Street singer gathers up his coins
and counts to a hundred before
The last string stops vibrating
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