1533 10 3
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Palms planted firmly against his temples, Travis paced the room like a caged animal. Giant black bats screeched in his brain, their pointy wings scraping at the edges of his cranium.
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153384
|
It’s just that—well, I don’t know how to put this—
With a Dadaist poet a non-affair is the height of erotic bliss.
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153385
|
When Frank entered Michiko’s apartment, Michiko was not there.
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1533107
|
We are young
That’s all we’ve got
We take drugs
We smoke pot
You got mugged
And I got shot
We are young
That’s all we’ve got
I want you to love me like it’s midnight
Midnight, midnight
Yeah, your mama wants you home
But she knows
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153322
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The next day we were sitting at that same outdoor café on the square, trying to savor a peaceful meal of duck plucked fresh from the Vltava River, when the very same waiter passed by and said, “Bet you wish you had some peeg now, no?” There were camer
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153351
|
Juan’s tío, Richard, who works for the city and is the kind of Mexican who thinks he isn’t, took care of the lawyer. Juan checks himself in the mirror, didn’t know how good dressing fancy would feel.
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153321
|
It was all things considered a particularly odd sight, which Annalise did not know how to handle.
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153264
|
His face was creased with sadness the first time in the room and he danced his tai chi like a young man half his age, and laughed, like headtrippers do, from the neck up.
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1532710
|
From room to room, neither closet nor drawer contained any remnant of pleasant memory.
|
1532111
|
Eat me so I can sink in your mouth, my paper fraying along the sharp topography of your tongue, lodging in the holes where your teeth used to be. There, I will storm an infection until your mouth inks my words.
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153265
|
faith in gravity/permitted them to extol/the guillotine's blade.
|
153295
|
The world doesn'tend just becauseyou want it to.Bonus poems:The Poet(Series 1)by Darryl PricePoet in a TreeYeah, well, it's not up here either. Although the everything and nothing view is nice. Only because it doesn't have any abandoned cars in it. I'm…
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1532104
|
"Middle class workers and working class poor and the unemployed will soon be forming a revolutionary movement to break this stranglehold of corrupt elites."
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153200
|
Two angels walk in a dark cloud arm in arm
discussing the nature of good and evil
Walking along in flowing robes now that nakedness
is forgot, and they both stare at the same eternal thought
with their heads bowed as serenity is the only thing
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153252
|
“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?”
|
153250
|
I made her a mix tape. It was revolutionary. Twenty-two songs she had to hear at least once in her life. I even drew some trippy drug-like designs on the label of the CD to make it seem more real. It was the ocean and the sun and every body of land balled up…
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153253
|
Buyers of freelance writing have a well-deserved reputation for responding slowly, thereby increasing your pleasure in much the same way that the Pointer Sisters longed for a slow hand.
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153265
|
What a nation!
First we lost our money
Now we’ve lost our funny
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153252
|
Hissing through the opening, the spirits have no place.
|
153296
|
Erased. Like chalk across my body,
a fine powder of forgetfulness,
with a few swipes --- all those names
and faces, gone. The letters burned.
|
1532103
|
|
153277
|
|
153222
|
Suppose Eve, strolling through the sunlit Garden, had not stumbled on that particular Tree at all, the wily serpent twined in its lower branches?
|
153262
|
A year ago, my neighbor was a sexy graduate student in fashion design, sounds perhaps shabby, yet if it is, then we in the Middle West are all shabby. That girl's father graduated from high school with Bob Dylan in Hibbing, not entitling her to a child.
|
153185
|
Today clouds were dancing on the moon
Moon had a fit but drew in a breath
And let out a sigh
|
1531148
|
an undercurrent of fear is running through my community
|
153181
|
|
153122
|
Tomorrow, they'd bury their daughter . . . and still, so many questions. Why would a beautiful fourteen-year-old choose for herself such a horrible, painful death? In life, she appeared the antithesis of suicidal ideation: excellent grades, well-liked in school and…
|
153110
|
“We’re never going to get off the treadmill of paying ever-higher taxes," I said, "unless we get some creative suggestions from a professional bisexual tax advisor.”
|
1531106
|
People Who Go to Poems for Truth
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