1339 7 4
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The world is slick as alabaster, taking the guesswork out of the rain. Junction Road moves like thick grease under the tires of my '89 Skyhawk. The old car's making a clicking noise somewhere underneath the high-beam switch and the damn…
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133941
|
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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133971
|
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133921
|
I am exceeded / by a leaf
|
133886
|
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133864
|
The heart would have unnatural reverence, exalted, bursting with evil, rolling in sloth, if it did not at once reveal its innocence. I saw you again, on the morning of the sun. It was you, or your double, or a son you might have had. Your beautiful bloo
|
133811
|
Like a distant memory of past expectations
I wander through past journeys, delineations
chew on the fresh air like a discontented Wordsworth
now free, free to roam where I will..
|
133854
|
After President Trump was elected, my first impulse was to spend the next four years cowering under the bed, whimpering.While I knew that I needed to keep track of what our new commander in chief was up to, watching the news made me too angry and too sad and just too…
|
133895
|
I never meant to shipwreck you,
I didn't even know I was singing out loud.
I just stood on my rock a little too boldly,
and hummed a tune you wanted to hear.
|
133810
|
What if
Everything
I have been doing
Hasn’t been heard
By anyone?
|
133893
|
Remembering his body makes me think of Egyptian cotton sheets dried in the sun. He smelled crisp and clean even after sweating hard. His hair fell in golden spirals down his cheeks, his back, over his forehead, and captured light just like the gilded halos on…
|
133831
|
I just amuse myself by buying old guns and refurbishing them in my basement as I listen to old Bohemian polkas on cassettes.
|
133855
|
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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133820
|
I can’t deny you’re beautiful, though it’s unsure how many of your defects are fudged by my myopia.
|
133800
|
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.
|
133865
|
Mice dreams are a reality ...
|
13381511
|
When Lois finally found him down there, Johnny was wedged between a large rock and the trunk of an old, long since fallen, cottonwood tree. She said as she got to him, she heard his gurgling breath, fighting fiercely to stay alive. When she saw the deep, gathering, red…
|
133844
|
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…
|
1338108
|
That TV you got me? Ruined. And the ionizer fan? Ruined too. All your clothes you left over here, all my work scrubs and weekend dresses too, soaked with that river stink water. I kept thinking bout all the dead creatures.
|
133711
|
Every day, I write myself further away
From the East
Where we began
|
1337179
|
In the next week or two, the red oak/
will loose and lose its leaves
|
1337117
|
She had just done it in the backseat with the man she decided would be her father. Or maybe it was the cast of his eyes under the dim bar lights. Maybe she insisted that this had to be done, to relive the night under the stars, under a dented roof of a station…
|
133730
|
Some of us, however, turn our secrets over in our souls, churning them with the fury of the howling winds of a January night. They are eroded and shaped and fine-tuned with the precision of a jeweler; the deeper and darker they are, the more brilliant of
|
133741
|
|
133764
|
In a field of barley, I see you, ...
|
133776
|
the late snow, though not welcomed...
|
133787
|
There's something in the space youare tonight that's for me asweet presence in my own life,and so like any othercoward I write a poemin vain. It will never beseen as itself by you, butpossibly be mistakenfor an open window. Somewill definitely call itfurniture, some will…
|
1337115
|
So I told her
think of it this way:
you’re my unlived life.
|
133752
|
If there was another way to describe emptiness, I'd word the endlessness of the sky, of the ocean at low tide.
|
1337116
|
fanned lashes on rouged cheek
a glamorous sea creature
in violet perfume
|
