1475 9 4
|
happily fling Molotov cocktails//
against ICE agents in armored vehicles/
and sing the pain of their burning deaths/
as triumph against asininity.
|
147565
|
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…
|
147531
|
Though his heart aches
his melody seems to flow
It creeps into the dreams
of all in slumber in the valley below
|
147562
|
A white room is empty but for you, a card table and a chair.
|
147500
|
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.
|
1475129
|
Who owns the moon? What title search/
could ever make a claim?
|
147540
|
We all stared, somewhat shocked and mostly disgusted.
|
147443
|
Philosophy: a muscular exercise of throat, jaw, tongue, and brain.
|
147444
|
The woman lit a cigarette and sat on the edge of the bed, crossing one leg over the other. She took a long drag, tilted her head back, paused. Her eyes flicked to the NO…
|
147440
|
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
|
1474116
|
Five evangelists in bathing suits
baptize a man
while green chilies
roast on a Ferris wheel rotisserie
|
147400
|
It turned out that my brother's newly acquired building in downtown Pasadena, was what developers called a "see-through" building. That meant you could look from one side of the building all the way through to the other side, without obstruction. In oth
|
147454
|
|
147473
|
edge of wolf howls and howls past sunflowers and skeletons
|
147485
|
|
147474
|
|
147432
|
#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…
|
147400
|
my second language / to silence / plainsong of / the breast
|
147444
|
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…
|
147444
|
A rope is cleaner,
he explains with a straight face.
He's calmed by the visual.
|
147463
|
I looked down at Earth and imagined this porn star who’d asked for my help.
|
147321
|
We all thought, Birds! We all thought, Nests inside the chimney!
|
147376
|
I almost caught a poet today.
|
147365
|
|
147310
|
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…
|
147321
|
if you don't quiver with anticipation you'll barely manage to explode
|
147300
|
Keiko covered her arm while holding the staff. She looked up and saw morning breaking through the sky, but something was unusual about it.
|
147331
|
It was more than just taste/
more than a point of view/
and oil and pigment/
that painted a store front church/
a box with a cross in a vacant lot/
that welcomed desperation, faith/
and imagination.
|
147312
|
she goes jogging with the feet of an angel the sound of crunching leaves like wrapping paper torn open to reveal an expensive doll and the light in her mother's eyes.
|
147364
|
... he could feel the pointed picket spears.
|
