All these poets with their hands Full of poems are driving Me into the wheat fields like A flock of crows. They offer You a cigarette and light The damn thing with a poem. They give you a little dance, But when they take off…

sprang straight up to their full galloping heights roaming over your hills like constantly shifting eyes, your strange approximated illuminating hair like ghosts giving birth to a tender smell of green sea foam. This was all I saw, but it was quite…

We spend our days on the beach, working on our tans. My pale wife hides under a big floppy hat. The water is crystal clear.

The moon poured more/ light into the sky/ yet we kept on talking

After our first kiss, a team of scientists scrubbed away the cancer of your lipstick.

I am fair game that will be hunted and eaten, cutting its edge with Satan's tears from six eyes.

The woman in green doesn’t want to encounter the meter maid who is actually a man and so waits to one side at the newspaper racks as if purchasing a paper while that person writes the parking ticket (this city needs that money) and drives away in his li

“This is a Kneeling Bus.” They’re all kneeling buses, why do they even have to say that? Almost every person gets off in the front now when it says it even says right on the bus to please move to the back and exit from the rear side doors. I hate having t

I had never seen anyone die. For first time in my life, I was afraid, even more than when my step-dad got drunk and roughed me up. When Dale Franklin got shot last year standing on the corner outside the laundry-mat it took the ambulance forty-five minu

Each evening the man allowed himself an hour of fresh air. He and Prickles would situate themselves on the tiny balcony overlooking the same street, a blanket bundled around them both for warmth. These were the times he liked to talk to Prickles the most

drunkards indulge, addicts abuse

Why, these were the young hands that I kissed only last night.

An expanse of trees, grass, scrub, heathers, sky, space. A grey horse, the type her gran would have placed a bet on, approaches. "Don't like flies?" he asks. He holds her gaze, walks closer. Seventeen black flies crawl over the right side of his head. "What…

Outside Natsume’s room, in the kitchen, Mrs. Saito and Emi prepared lunch. They were silent, but there were no feelings of negativity in the air.

The Argument: A couple of young female lovers, one slightly older than the other one, decide to part ways. The elder has contracted a terminal illness, and they decide the best way to part ways would be by joining together through a suicide pact.…