1226 10 9
|
He just up and dropped dead one day, Charles said. Pretty tough on Karen, I opined. Charles looked the other way.
|
122610
|
Marissa sat on her knees placing her hand on Alysia’s head. Her eyes held back her tears as she watched her daughter’s eyes shift back and forth.
|
122611
|
Come to the park and swing with me, sing with me.
|
122675
|
I was tired and lonesome when I checked into another insufferable, shop-worn Holiday Inn. It was the only motel around with the internet — dial up only — in that little jerkwater town, Notmuch, Alabama. It was too late for a nap, so I jumped in the shower,…
|
122540
|
blueberry tea and vodka on a Friday night
|
122554
|
hey, this is me who danced to the Doors
I thought I would surely dodge that bullet
|
122531
|
I will show you how, in the spring,
the sidewalks here
look like a crossword puzzle resting under
a glass of lemonade,
|
122532
|
Dearest Z— There is no way to describe this place. It is a pendulum, caught at mid-swing or maybe just a millimeter on the up side. It is a sense of sweeping, a cleanness. Distant clouds remind me of the day we took the train and the mountains acted petulantly,…
|
122573
|
Sometimes you have to go wild; you have just to go fucking nuts. You do.
|
122596
|
Erased. Like chalk across my body,
a fine powder of forgetfulness,
with a few swipes --- all those names
and faces, gone. The letters burned.
|
122521
|
The Mojave Desert remembers Ron Paul
With tattered billboards
Scraped and clawed by vehement dust
|
122577
|
maybe eventually time / will erase our time together
|
122532
|
Some claimed seeing him that first time in the grocery store staring in at the pints of Haagen-Dazs, his breath fogging the glass as his head rested against the heavy freezer doors, stinking in his Sasquatch suit. The second time he was…
|
122542
|
Frank shouldered his backpack, grabbed the leather satchel packed with his brushes, palette knives, pens, and pencils, and exited the vaporetto at the Rialto Bridge.
|
122500
|
my second language / to silence / plainsong of / the breast
|
122500
|
COLLEAGUES, ACQUAINTANCES SUSPECT MARK ZUCKERBERG IS A MASKED VIGILANTE
|
1225188
|
The cloudless sky/
amplifies the incompletion,/
clarifies the imperfections/
of the night’s normalcy-
|
1224147
|
Bones consolidate with age. The fleshy/
bits of body follow by wrinkling and/
spreading outward, appearing to expand.
|
122484
|
Your voice so soft / I wish it was touch.
|
122474
|
I wonder how many crumbs
he can drop to make a cookie,
whole, so I can relax a little
and throw out the self help books
about how I'm not right in
the motherfucking head,
|
122455
|
I am a buttress against chaos. And now I am turning yellow.
|
122474
|
Kids said the boiler room was haunted. I don’t know if it was true then but it sure is now.
|
122422
|
I do not know the species of birds here. /
The two I see playing on the balcony at night /
I can never call back.
|
122445
|
The last time Cyrus rode in a train’s passenger car, he came home a dead man.
|
122421
|
At eight o' clock: as, drawn by many bells, The patchwork congregation lopes and stalks, To churches far from serenade of shells To storms, we leave behind the windblown walks, And sails of youth, to glide through liquid hells, A temporal…
|
122422
|
We do the work of fixing people like him?
|
122474
|
She was dressed to seduce one man: Francesco Martinelli.
|
12241310
|
Inevitability: it's what's for dinner.
|
1224108
|
|
122484
|
He was ready for the rub. Tense. She could always tell. The legs, the shuffles. He had to be frantic before he would come to her, his own wife. Vanity, fright. She could read him like a book open on the table, turn his pages the way a fish flakes. "It's comfort night,…
|
