1655 4 3
|
. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.
|
165595
|
I fear my personal information travels the World Wide Web/
and mad Ukrainians will steal my name and wealth./
I fear the fiscal cliff and raising the ceiling on national debt./
I fear a death by taxes.
|
1655106
|
There were only six passengers aboard the small ferry...
|
165511
|
President Kennedy’s national physical fitness program tried to reverse the incoming tide of obesity, but for many it was too late.
|
1655157
|
I fondly remember those warm, weekend evenings at twilight on the beach. After the frolic of the waves flattened, sending the surfers home and, after the last bait was spent, sending the surfcasters away, I'd set up the little, foldable, 3‘x4', rectangular stage I always…
|
1655158
|
She is too stylish to be crazy, is what the migrant probably thinks. And he's right.
|
165577
|
They say that inside the veins of every Bohemian
lies an entire army of dead alcoholics.
I suppose this is true of me too.
|
16551312
|
Forty years later he was still her Romeo, she his Juliet.
|
165575
|
I am no different to her, living seven days ahead
of myself, looking forward to looking back,
as we Irish do so fondly
|
165531
|
Your favorite nickname
existed only in the bright red
cherry smoldering
at the end of your smoke.
|
165433
|
|
165485
|
Snipers wear camouflage clothing to avoid being seen. It wouldn’t do for a sniper to be seen because then the sniper might become the snipee.
|
165430
|
I see ghosts. They accost me in their sleep. Hundreds of them. When I wake up (after a long night of half-waking), I think, What wold ghosts want with me? I have nothing for them. But at night they're there again, watching, tapping my shoulder as I lay awake. Sometime…
|
165464
|
My mother moved her things out of my parents’ bedroom into the attic guest room. When I asked where guests would sleep, my father said, “Matthew, don’t be an asshole.”
|
165432
|
"Why, before the summer has passed
You won’t remember her name. . ."
|
165454
|
I found the hand eight months ago, after I planned to grow a meadow of tiny yellow blossoms in my yard.
|
165474
|
Easing her hand with her other hand.
|
165453
|
The arrangements of lights on the cracking towers are a segment of Orion’s belt, the handle of the Big Dipper and a section of Andromeda’s spine.
|
165498
|
On my twenty-second birthday, in the spring of 1979, I had a crawfish boil, my first. Ninety pounds of red mudbugs on a picnic table spread with newspaper, my birthday cake sitting at the end of the table like an afterthought.I hadn't…
|
16541411
|
chains across all the old doors
|
165400
|
“You look strangely familiar,” he said, taking a drink and swinging his leg over the horse, landing on the ground beside me ...
|
165430
|
Blend the dog a drink and sit down beside him and draw straws for regrets.
|
1654106
|
Here comes my speed dealer
he's riding shotgun in the open
|
165430
|
|
1653114
|
He is leaning back against a pillar watching the dancing; a spectator to joy – both planned and spontaneous – that’s unfolding in bodies fourteen and fifteen years old in front of him.
|
165341
|
Pinnacles
State Park
lying on our backs
stoned on hash
around a campfire
looking up at the
clear see-through
blue green stars
to the other side
of the universe
I know now
you are out there
I float up to
within 2
|
165340
|
blueberry tea and vodka on a Friday night
|
165364
|
It was entirely my fault, misreading signals. I have a clumsy imagination, mistook your gushing about my boobs as a soul connection. Then you said something about us being lovers in a past life, and I remembered Bobby Bubion from high school, his strategy for…
|
165374
|
Mythical Itch and the Unicorns
Working Late
Jacuzzi Floozy
One Erection
Diego Rivera’s Poncho
Frieda’s Moustache
Avalanche
Babushka Dolls
Photographic Mammary
Drool
Sir Gruntsalot
Uber Rubber
Iota Pie
Elder Geese
Ladylike
Rud
|
165374
|
I don’t know what to do with all this money flowing from my books.
It’s burning a hole in my literary pocket.
|
