1525 8 6
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I wrote her a poem.She said, “I hate poetry.” I said, “OK, just read the words then."
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152564
|
Poetry is conceit; emotional, intellectual or technical.
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152520
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Each had jostled and laboured for his or her place upon the blunt outcrop, in the cold persistent darkness, where the outcrop was merely something that had fallen and not quite been washed away.
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152587
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The winter’s too warm for the bears to sleep,
and they get up in the middle of the night
with insomnia and wander about the streets
in their pajamas, knocking over garbage cans,
looking for a midnight snack of some kind.
They’re getting kind o
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152531
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7 — IT'S HARD TO HAVE FRIENDS WHEN YOU'VE NEVER HAD ANY AND ARE STILL FUCKING WHINING ABOUT IT — Once he learned he didn't “bring anything to the table,” Worthless Veikass hit on the notion of [...]
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152578
|
Reprisal The bomb blew away hubris, shocked the arrogant bastards into humiliated silence. None of them had experienced hunger and they'd misjudged its effect. In the lobby of the palace, dirt, plaster, glass shifted, rumbled,…
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1525104
|
Every day, a fresh new/
strain of Hell reveals itself
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152544
|
A rope is cleaner,
he explains with a straight face.
He's calmed by the visual.
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152500
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A tanka poem about Jolly Old Nick being black as hell.
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152521
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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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152531
|
Sheep are very philosophical, I hear. Stop this hopeless dreaming.
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1524102
|
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152494
|
When we are given eternity, as a night is eternal
|
152422
|
Suddenly I'm not feeling it anymore. /
Poetry has become insufficient. /
I can't do it like I used to.
|
152475
|
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152455
|
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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152400
|
The eyelid of the sink blinks silence. The clocks choke on smoke.
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152431
|
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.
|
152433
|
Who hasn’t at some point of the day wanted to dredge up everything in your pocket just to see what it is.
|
152484
|
He spotted her in Sarasota Whole Foods surveying the artichokes
|
1524129
|
Enumerate the small delights/ this bright first morning
|
152474
|
|
152422
|
In the privacy of a booth?
|
152498
|
Regret takes the shape of little clouds ...
|
15231011
|
I fall in love with a second cousin at the picnic. I make sure I sit next to her.
|
152364
|
I'd wear my pajamas too, fitting for the big sleep
|
152395
|
I recalled the one night stand I'd had with the girl one balmy summer night in Minneapolis. We lay on my bed in the moonlight, and I touched the nipples of her tiny breasts with the thumb and pinkie of one hand.
|
152355
|
Style Shifts “Oh, yes, my cousin. We were rude boys until the armed gangs started to gather. Used to be we could pass a night driving, playing our songs, acting tough. Yeah. We'd mouth off, flash some teeth, spark some anger when we felt like it. We…
|
152355
|
I opened the closet door and there stood Eugène Ionesco lost among our clothes.
|
1523126
|
Have you heard this yet? The daughter flew home to care for the mother, whose pump is still tick ticking—though now with aid—which means she leaves the kitchen when the microwave clicks on.
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