1579 8 4
|
We may think about so many things and thoughts about rain. We may think about where it is going, where it comes from.
|
157999
|
Its odors of quicklime/
and pyre-smoke will curl/
commingled in acrid air.
|
157864
|
I'd wear my pajamas too, fitting for the big sleep
|
157897
|
|
157821
|
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1578168
|
Fear the air and fear the fire./
Fear the land and fear the water./
Creation is out to get you, speck,
|
157811
|
"Yes. It was moving, and not along the ground, either. We were. . . looking toward the cemetery, and the ghost or whatever was clearly visible. . ."
|
157861
|
She burps in beauty, like a frog
Who sits on lily pad so green,
Resounding nightly in his bog
But to my eyes unseen.
|
1578105
|
She looks for the obit, can't find. Over and over, looks. Nothing. Nothing except something touching her shoulder. Follow me. Corridors, doors, along and along, no time to notice that this last is the stage door — she was so suddenly there in the blare and…
|
157811
|
. . . nor did mine eye apologize.
|
1578129
|
Enumerate the small delights/ this bright first morning
|
1578105
|
“Now,” my friend said. “Tell us about earthquakes. Can we expect one anytime soon?”
|
157863
|
I looked down at Earth and imagined this porn star who’d asked for my help.
|
157710
|
My first abroad journey completed. A picturesque way to end it all, really. I’m into that, I think to myself: making things play like movies or dramas or as beautifully as I can make them.
|
157722
|
At a candlelit table near the back of the restaurant, Jack and Lois greeted the waiter as he delivered their drinks, a diet coke for him, and for her, a vodka and cranberry. He apologized for the slow bar service and promised to return in a moment to take their…
|
157755
|
I opened the closet door and there stood Eugène Ionesco lost among our clothes.
|
157700
|
Oh, you aren't going to lecture us, for heaven's sake?
|
157711
|
“...you should have something moving around here.” Tracey looked around, then said, “Paul, you should get a cat.”
|
157774
|
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157787
|
There's something in the space youare tonight that's for me asweet presence in my own life,and so like any othercoward I write a poemin vain. It will never beseen as itself by you, butpossibly be mistakenfor an open window. Somewill definitely call itfurniture, some will…
|
1577125
|
the bodies of the poor become/
a simple logistical problem,/
disposable as any gnawed bones
|
1577189
|
I want to tell you how the odor of the flowers/felt her funeral day
|
157720
|
"My sister's parrot admires your armpit," X-Lautrec says. "Would you be so kind as to nail an avocado seed to a cup of black coffee?"
|
157765
|
Shhh. I am here. Otillie Augustine, from Trieste, an Italian city to you, but when I lived it was part of Austria. Such things as who flies their flags over a city? Not so important after all, after all the losses and the victory speeches. These were not…
|
157700
|
Would we have been satisfied with a humble butter sculpture of a cow in 1960? Puh-lease! Would Parisians of the Impressionist era swoon over a big-eyed child picture?
|
157750
|
Flicking the cigarette into the river the man's face becomes soft, as if waving goodbye to the only real attachment that he has felt in decades.
|
157665
|
Certain disorders lend themselves to poetics.
|
157610
|
On Friday evenings they play Scrabble, a whole crowd of them. They use books to keep score, page numbers, instead of a long column of pencil scratches. They organize themselves into teams; the English majors all together, versus biology, history and horn players. She and he…
|
157687
|
There is a war, but is it not In my heart? There is a war, but You are not the reason. There is a War, but we're all doing what we can. There is a war, but it is not just Your fight. There is a war, but I Wished you still walked…
|
1576104
|
I don’t know how some can do it. Can they just walk off the animal in the yard or something, and forget about love altogether? Some have that built-in coldness of the soul, I guess. I don’t get it. The blood does not seem to shake their hearts. Are th
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