1479 1 1
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No chance for Hallo, we sank into an unlit station doorway and he fumbled through my shorts.
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147965
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Certain disorders lend themselves to poetics.
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147900
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Ships tumble, cars crash, horns gulp water, bombs burst up from the ground in a halo of screams.
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147900
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The streets were filled with animals of the forest. All in a panic trying to find a direction. Mixed among them were members of various Clans that lived in the forest.
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147942
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who can quite say/when careless talk & confidence/slips into that other charged thing/so minimal at first
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147920
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“Tell me a story,” he said, toying with his top hat, running his fingers along its brim.
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147900
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The rocking chair will bite your toes.
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147940
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I await, here at Sandymount Strand / There's a stony bed and moistened sand / Couples dance away into futurity /
With their dogs upon the shore
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147943
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The first time I ever held a gun, I was three years old...
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147911
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Colton nods, without words, understanding the significance of every word that the Old Man has uttered, knowing that in the end, given enough time, we all go down that lonely corner, to embrace the darkness, wishing to be cured of our sentiments.
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147944
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We'll all face the raging river, some sooner than others.
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147964
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Poetry is conceit; emotional, intellectual or technical.
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147962
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A white room is empty but for you, a card table and a chair.
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147998
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I don't think you understand. A sad boy doesn't just die inside, slowly, he becomes withdrawn from certain types of lovely youthful reasoning out loud, accustomed to feeling what is expected, graded, just to be allowed to survive another…
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147940
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We all stared, somewhat shocked and mostly disgusted.
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147800
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Long ago, this painter Brussegem had hung the dark mantle of Outcast Artist” over his shoulders—and over his life, he formed a strict philosophy—Art and Only Art—and protected his solitude and artistry with all his moody might,....
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147877
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It's become sort of a habit now when Elsie's husband is away on business two or three times a month that we take the afternoon off and drive nine miles across the river to Marginalia, Arkansas and the Moonglow Motel with its red, neon vacancy sign and although to some, two…
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147833
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The gate squeaked, the gravel shuffled and the letterbox clattered as February 14th's mail cascaded to the ground.
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147876
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All these poets with their wrinkled hands full of freshly poured over poems are driving me into the dried wheat fields like a black block of crows. Offering a collectable cigarette, they light the damned thing with another hand-rolled poem,…
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147833
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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…
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147864
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... he could feel the pointed picket spears.
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147800
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Won't speak a word against 'em. Car trunk stunk like bad chicken long after, but I won't speak a word against 'em.
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147885
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147854
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If you are a family member or friend of a person incarcerated in a correctional facility...
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147800
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my second language / to silence / plainsong of / the breast
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147844
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I slide my CD toward Eric Burdon who sits, smiling and gracious and fatigued from Seattle traffic, at the table at Silver Platters, where I have just purchased ‘Til Your River Runs Dry, and stood in a line of old gray heads to have him sign it. I remove my hat and…
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147821
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"That zit on your forehead just won't go away, will it, sweetie?" she adds as she brushes her daughter's bangs downward.
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147753
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Magdalena followed the receding tide, her tiny feet leaving no rumors in the hard sand. She gathered only the most beautiful shells and presented them to her waiting Abuela. Her grandmother told her that the only things that a woman truly owns are her dreams. She told her…
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147721
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We all thought, Birds! We all thought, Nests inside the chimney!
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147755
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and pressed an area
on my forehead
between my eyes
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