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I got to see me the other day.
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“That pool will be the death of me.”Which Dad said at least a couple of times a week. Ten times the week after he'd read the TXU bill.“Goddamn pump, and that twitchy little Polaris. We should fill that pool with dirt and plant some trees and Asian…
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I separate my thoughts into two / camps
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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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I'd wear my pajamas too, fitting for the big sleep
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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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The night sky was washed gray by city lights.
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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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For two days his parents had been fighting, and they would tell him to tell the other one something every morning that was supposed to be some sort of slight at their personal failings, which had been inflamed by their twenty years of marriage.
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Any form of exertion would defile what we are trying to do
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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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Five evangelists in bathing suits
baptize a man
while green chilies
roast on a Ferris wheel rotisserie
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But tonight
while your finger
glides across
the glossy pages
of Popular Science
I hold a séance
for the Holy Spirit
in utter seriousness
among the book clutter
and crumpled manifestos
in the basement
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. . . nor did mine eye apologize.
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‘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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Earlier that morning a tree in the yard had filled with starlings, and on the way home after lunch, the sky held planes that looked like starlings, floating together.
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my second language / to silence / plainsong of / the breast
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We may think about so many things and thoughts about rain. We may think about where it is going, where it comes from.
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Its odors of quicklime/
and pyre-smoke will curl/
commingled in acrid air.
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But now she was no longer the little girl.
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Remember the equatorial heat, the flies,/
the lurking hum and scream of jungle,/
the squalor? Remember the functionary.
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“If your work is good you will get published. Just keep at it."
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if you don't quiver with anticipation you'll barely manage to explode
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The machines are alive but she is not. The pads keep her face from being irritated but my mind isn't so lucky."Let me GO!" she cries....at least that's what I hear. They are waiting for permission for her to go. Eager hesitation best describes the tense…
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Desire stirred into the liquid reveals
Cold ice smoking colder,
As you pipet these channels of my heart.
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Who hasn’t at some point of the day wanted to dredge up everything in your pocket just to see what it is.
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You need only one who notices.
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