1538 5 5
|
i am either lacerated /or ill at ease / continually subject to gusts of life
|
153878
|
Sulawesi-Kalosi brews bitter and watery without proper care.
|
153863
|
Chant the ice cream mantra.
Prance the do dah day ballet.
Trot the t-bone tango two-step.
Dance the livelong day away.
|
153894
|
|
15381212
|
I'm walking you / through Pere Lachaise
|
15381911
|
served as it is/
among these friends.
The frayed filaments/
tickle my chin and irritate my nostrils,
|
153852
|
They build them high they do in Waveland, Mississippi.The tall houses with their skinny thighs spread wide flirting with the dusky coast, like antebellum ladies petticoats lifted, stockings wetted, ankles bared, savingtheir hems from the unpredictable tide,…
|
153812
|
David looked at the plaque sitting on top of his computer monitor and wondered if he’d even touched it since he’d placed it there. He picked it up and brushed off six years’ worth of dust into the wastebasket on top of the mustard-stained sandwich wrappe
|
153854
|
before your full lips touch
mine.
|
153732
|
To him the younger women, contemporaries of the bride, all sounded as if they were breathing helium.
|
15371311
|
He sat at the bar and waited for her. He looked at the noon drinkers with indifferent eyes.
|
153722
|
It’s End of the World Karaoke at Big Daddy’s and Lara takes a photo of herself for Facebook before she goes on stage. She’s holding a basket of nachos in one hand and her phone in the other. After she takes the photo, she says, to Javier, “Hold these,” an
|
153721
|
Mutiny is the last I remember.
|
153783
|
|
153798
|
Like the swift night-black blue of a cormorant as it suddenly dips into a rush of white cold water,eyeing its possible food, we too sweepdown on what we think we see, rising wet sometimes with the reward,or hapless, dripping, we try again.
|
15371110
|
My father bouncing his leg to slow rock music with me on one knee, telling me I should keep a special place in my heart for my teeth, to remember where I lose them, on the playground like he did when he was my age, fighting a friend named Bobby-Joe. Or else I could lose…
|
153764
|
After the ship stopped shaking, the angry flashes of warning lights discontinued, a few people could be heard sobbing or whispering prayers.
|
153742
|
My playing would falter languidly, and transcend itself like a wishful Nocturne
|
1537107
|
We keep a ruin of a house, but I suppose it's all right.
|
153784
|
—Well, are you having an affair with Jack Mahler?
|
153798
|
Years later he surveys this place again to post something, anything. He plays "sex on fire," sounds that once fueled him. Now he knows the song is about VD, not unbridled potency. Names and words all seem at once familiar and numbing and noise. He once wanted fame or…
|
1537104
|
The aisle, nave and/
transept twist themselves/
into an auditorium.
|
153777
|
I’m decades in and it hasn’t gone away.
In all other respects, I am normal. Life
is hard, but I’m not complaining. The thing
is, I am in a constant state of falling.
|
153734
|
They were just boys, the Nazis I mean, young in their twenties, not much older than my brother Cyril.
|
153786
|
The world is upon us. The only thing that matters Now is if you are willing to be seen by them. Many moths Will be hidden by simply gathering on the bark Of the one tree, but this will not sustain you if you Do not also have the courage…
|
153610
|
"Did you want that with the shrimp or the chicken?" the waitress asked. "Uh, shrimp is fine" the old man replied. "I'll be right back with some more bread" the waitress plasters a fake smile on as she walks away. 'What the hell am I doing. I've got a BS i
|
15361310
|
Well, it's midnight and here I am drinking alone at the Stick It Inn, watching the clock because that cute, brunette waitress with the home wrecker tits, Julie, is working again, thank ya, Jesus, and she just came over and murmured she'd be off at one and come over and…
|
153632
|
The daily slog on public transit is a battlefield. Tensions are often higher than a presidential debate, but throw a wrench into the gears (or a tree branch onto the tracks) with any “severe delay,” and add in one or more of the below faux pas, and we’re
|
1536116
|
Is this a place to show posterity and mortality?
|
153677
|
to have something, but I don't think you need anything from me. There are poems that belong in your hair and no one else's. They should be like stars that only appear every one thousand years or so, then can only be seen when you are…
|
