1473 8 8
|
Always in a hurry/to spoil your/weekend
|
147311
|
Shirley stubbed her cigarillo out on a dead chunk of honeycomb.
|
147344
|
A rope is cleaner,
he explains with a straight face.
He's calmed by the visual.
|
147300
|
A tanka poem about Jolly Old Nick being black as hell.
|
1472105
|
The washing machine at home was broken. It was an old leaky Maytag. A discouraging mess—twisted panties, sky-blue jeans, and an old lover or two or three floating downstream (the reverse of spawning salmon). Each man was slightly drowned,…
|
147294
|
These philosophic notions floated in my head for years and eventually helped inspire my pursuit of basic information in contemporary physics, astrophysics, astronomy, and cosmology when I was not reading or writing fiction or verse.
|
1472911
|
The brain taints everything it brings to us/
with its limited apparatus, its precepts,//
all the things it thinks it knows.
|
147243
|
Philosophy: a muscular exercise of throat, jaw, tongue, and brain.
|
147265
|
(the hourglass has not gone digital, oh no,/but these days, silicon is in with the sand)
|
147255
|
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.
|
147243
|
The first time I ever held a gun, I was three years old...
|
147200
|
Won't speak a word against 'em. Car trunk stunk like bad chicken long after, but I won't speak a word against 'em.
|
147264
|
Poetry is conceit; emotional, intellectual or technical.
|
147200
|
We named her Big Cat—I don’t know why. Maybe because she was already grown when we got her, unlike the kittens we’d seen in the pet store window that Dad wouldn’t let us have.
|
1472129
|
Who owns the moon? What title search/
could ever make a claim?
|
147240
|
We all stared, somewhat shocked and mostly disgusted.
|
147111
|
No chance for Hallo, we sank into an unlit station doorway and he fumbled through my shorts.
|
1471119
|
The commodore drives a 67 Caddy rag top
All fin and boatish power
|
147176
|
I almost caught a poet today.
|
147165
|
|
147133
|
Welcome the one and the all of you, welcome all you scraggly long haired weeds, welcome the no longer rolling stones of the new you, welcome you most beautiful little wonderfully…
|
147110
|
I'm waiting for your voice. My trembling hand is so damp the phone could slip from my fragile grasp at any moment. Each ring burns in my ear and makes the washing machine in my stomach tumble faster and faster. After three rings, or it could be four, or forty, I hear…
|
147100
|
Sora and Ciel stood before Dean Morden inside his office. It felt weird to the girls looking at him sitting behind Madam Mayweather’s desk
|
147101
|
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.
|
1471108
|
I never took more than a few pills at a time, just enough for a treat on Friday night.
|
147132
|
#2 The Typewriter Inside You by Harmon Gentle—I found this one at a garage sale when I was 15. Intended as a manual for sharpening one's typing skills, by the third chapter it became obvious that Mr. Gentle's sanity had slipped, and that rather than mastering the…
|
1471105
|
“Now,” my friend said. “Tell us about earthquakes. Can we expect one anytime soon?”
|
147021
|
We all thought, Birds! We all thought, Nests inside the chimney!
|
147033
|
The shit just doesn't want to come off.
|
1470910
|
When the dark shadows of his limp eyes told us life was slowly seeping away, stolen by his stroke, his wife signed the “DO NOT RESUSCITATE” order and, tearfully leaving the room, she turns, asking a final question, “Think a needy family could use his…
|
