1560 2 1
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The sun becomes hot. She removes her skirt. She is left with a black bodice, with white laces, leggings underneath and a pair of twelve hole Doc Martens.
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156083
|
First of all, there was no snow. I seem to remember that. And there was no Christmas tree in the house.
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1560116
|
Five evangelists in bathing suits
baptize a man
while green chilies
roast on a Ferris wheel rotisserie
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1560108
|
The first night I met her we slow danced to George Strait songs for most of the evening and when we took a break, our talking went warm and well as we sat eating hot dogs and sipping beers until she dropped a couple of bombs, first, telling me she was married and then, that…
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156032
|
I am useless. A freak. Different. They all hate me now. All except you, of course. You will never leave me. Never. I'd kill them all if I could. Every single one. But twenty-four, that's a lot even for me. I'm so sick of the cliques; the special groups and hastily strung…
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156011
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. . . nor did mine eye apologize.
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156064
|
Poetry is conceit; emotional, intellectual or technical.
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156011
|
My grief is made up of
Demons fighting to
Claw their way first
Out of my eyes
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155922
|
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…
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155967
|
I love you because your eyes are both crossed
When you do it, because you’re focused
On the inside of the universe
I love you because
You’re on a roller coaster
Through life
And I can ride along
For the thrill of it
I love you because
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155900
|
The rocking chair will bite your toes.
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155944
|
It was one of those weekday mornings in early spring when Marjorie and I could wander from chapel to chapter house with only security guards for company.
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155900
|
You cannot go back, you cannot go home, you cannot cannot cannot…Only in memory is it possible to travel back in time. We all imagine it. We relive happy moments, sad moments, we exist, time exists and it passes. We cannot stop it.
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155900
|
‘A whole damn plane is missing and the only damn clue we have is a 9mm bullet,’ Picasso said to Victor Bravo whom he calls Torv. He’s his partner at the Picasso Investigation Agency.
They questioned the guard assigned on the night of the plane
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155942
|
"Mama skipped the training bras and just gave me her old bras. I'll be 25 before I can wear her old bras..."
|
155987
|
The winter’s too warm for the bears to sleep,
and they get up in the middle of the night
with insomnia and wander about the streets
in their pajamas, knocking over garbage cans,
looking for a midnight snack of some kind.
They’re getting kind o
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155942
|
Dandelions wither as I approach and the grass dies under my feet.
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155911
|
Shirley stubbed her cigarillo out on a dead chunk of honeycomb.
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155910
|
[WARNING: DO NOT OPEN UNTIL 'R XMAS!]
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155932
|
I separate my thoughts into two / camps
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155810
|
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.
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155820
|
They think because you are a writer you are not much of a listener and so you begin to recognize all of the great opportunities to be much more of a listener and then you shut your trap and get sucked into the whorls of her big wet brown eyes with Italianate…
|
1558103
|
We are what we are, and that is zombies.
|
155860
|
But now she was no longer the little girl.
|
155855
|
I opened the closet door and there stood Eugène Ionesco lost among our clothes.
|
155800
|
Oh, you aren't going to lecture us, for heaven's sake?
|
155820
|
I woke up pissed off—like that feeling you get when you take a long nap in the afternoon. Except instead of being on a couch or a bed, I was trapped in a mashed-up Honda on I-75.
|
155853
|
Any form of exertion would defile what we are trying to do
|
155821
|
if you don't quiver with anticipation you'll barely manage to explode
|
155855
|
There’s someone in the audience who is immolating himself
Cutting his own leg over and over with a pen knife
And groaning: “Oh God, oh God”
And all I can think from up at the podium is
This guy must absolutely hate these poems
I am reading
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