1491 0 0
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A tanka poem about Jolly Old Nick being black as hell.
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149199
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No one has touched me for a long, long time and I believe that is why I am dying. This is a notion that is new to me but it has persisted over the last few weeks and I believe I finally have apprehended the truth. There was a time, I remember all too well,…
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149193
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149000
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When she got back to Claire's, she was hammered and she had no idea what time it was, what day, or, frankly, what planet. It was the first time she'd been that drunk in years. The last time she could remember getting even close to that wasted was at a Christmas party right…
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149012
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You gave me everything, delivered with a hungry mouth. Tease.All taken away, erasedby a few words.Lips that poured forth and lips that took insharp, electric pleasures.Now withdrawn, thin, petulant.Not satisfied,you crushed my sanctuary.with so…
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149010
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Even before I tap on the door I know I am being watched with one eye. My footsteps have surely given me away. A swift tug on it reveals her to me—half of her, that is, and I slink past the threshold, to her. From her eyes I see that she has…
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149041
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The capsules tumble around, one of them plinking against the crown in my upper-right jaw. I hate the crown… a mute reminder of the first time Brad hit me. Swallowing the capsules, my tongue probes the left side of my mouth, finding the other two crowns…
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149011
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Wherever you decide to grow
Please remember to ask the dirt
‘Am I still dust’
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149021
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I think we could be twins, our hands hitching us together like paper dolls, our parkas making blobby round balloon shapes as outlines for our bodies. I imagine each of us holding onto someone else, and the line continuing on from there until we have a cha
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149065
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(the hourglass has not gone digital, oh no,/but these days, silicon is in with the sand)
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149055
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In an authentic Irish pub in Las Vegas where over much crowd noise the three of us are discussing Yeats, Joyce and Lady Gregory. We’re in an Irish pub after all, plus the fact we’re literature profs attending a Vegas academic conference.
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149074
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"I’ve always wanted to write a novel. Like Catch-22, something off-beat that would start by word-of-mouth, you know, and become an underground classic."
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149044
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We'll all face the raging river, some sooner than others.
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149000
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‘It's perfect,' said Maggie as she lay in the casket. Harold Barnes offered his hand. ‘It's a shame he never got to see it,' Maggie continued as she climbed free of the coffin.
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149085
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—Jesus, that bastard has everyone in his pocket.
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1490129
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Who owns the moon? What title search/
could ever make a claim?
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148922
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Ellen and I stepped out into the hall to discuss the situation. Maybe we should make some sort of offer to purchase these paintings, because if it did turn out that they were for real, well, the value could be endless. Think of it. Vladimir Lenin, the pai
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148922
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Rogue sits bedside in Jello Biafra’s hospital room.
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148921
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Loaded on acid, Billy blatzed into a 7-11, holding his dick like he hoped the store guy would think the thing was an Uzi. The guy laughed and pulled out a .38 Special and the cops carted Billy to jail. …
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148971
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She talks about window treatments, how the place is maybe too much for one. Wants me to know she’s not much of a cook, and wants me to smell what’s in her oven and compliment her cooking anyway.
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148901
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I take her hand. More grey dust rolls off the arms, over the railing, into the wind. It’s embarrassing and I let go. I think she told me to throw them away months ago.
I rub her bare thigh. She laughs real soft like. The corner of her lip curls up.
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148922
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"I have consulted the Internet," the man remarks, squatting low, sorting through a mountain of tablets. He snags two and stands slowly, confidently, and I realize suddenly that he is Moses. Two iPads, cradled surely in each wrist, glow with lists.
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148901
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On the street / The protesters stand / Yelling words empty as wind
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148945
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After my mother died, my father shipped me to my uncle's. He hadn't told me she was dying, so he could just mourn alone.Lena lived next door, Italian, my age -- which was ten -- beautiful. She was watched by goons in black suits. Her parents owned a restaurant. Across the…
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148900
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Being the baby in a family forces a focused outlook on life. Not necessarily profound, not even wry, but a perspective that pushes for two things - recognition, and to be in on whatever is going on.
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148922
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The young boy sat on the swing, hearing sirens in the distance. The tops of his shoes were dirty. His fingers as well, where he drew stick figures of people in the dirt. His…
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148944
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He'd sit or stand, as if this was common
to see: in the street walking by, such a man.
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148911
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My grief is made up of
Demons fighting to
Claw their way first
Out of my eyes
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1489138
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The stars align against us. Lines of force/
collaborate to push us off the edge/
into the dark abyss we’ve joked about.
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148912
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suddenly she blurts out: “You are vulgar.” There is actually no perfect translation to it. “Bastos ka.” She meant I was vulgar, but also disgusting, distasteful, offensive, rude, salacious, obnoxious…
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