1460 7 6
|
Here the three o'clock sun is an old patched up fellow, with a stained yellow beard, walking in a small crispy rain of brown leaves, looking at something that requires a bit of squinting no one else can see, on the far side of the softening…
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1460 8 7
|
By the sixth - Dizz, Falstaff buzzed - Croons - The Wabash Cannonball
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1460 11 6
|
I suppose it was inevitable, This crashing of souls, This recognition of possibility to create. If we were younger, We would make a baby, The ultimate act of faith. Now it has to be something else, Nothing to force a track with night feedings, …
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1460 19 10
|
I can admire Falling Water
and find Mr. Wright a complete shit.
|
1460 3 2
|
Boil (n.)––1. Pus-filled pustule inflammation of the skin, usually painful. 2. Slang boiled pus, bucket of (n. phrase)“Your asshole brain is a bucket of boiled pus.” (see also pus, SCOTTISH derogatory term for face.
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1459 10 2
|
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1459 2 2
|
Suddenly I'm not feeling it anymore. /
Poetry has become insufficient. /
I can't do it like I used to.
|
1459 5 7
|
It is claimed we choose/
conditions of our servitude.
|
1459 6 5
|
I know someone in need of healing.
|
1459 2 1
|
The blaring scream from my alarm clock suffices as my wake-up call. It disrupts me from my dream state that I so rarely get the privilege to experience any more. I've always loathed that alarm clock, so I turn it off in the most sensibly aggressive manner I know how: just…
|
1459 3 2
|
Billy took acid and blatzed into a 7-11, holding his dick like he hoped the store guy would think the thing was an Uzi. The guy laughed his ass off, reached under the counter, and pulled out a .38…
|
1459 6 1
|
I would like to go back (with spade, pick, soft bristles), and sift through time and layers, brush away the intervening years, and find: the tooth, knocked out by my then best friend, when we were seven, careening downhill in my father's wheelbarrow on Boscobel…
|
1459 2 1
|
Vietnam, Tet, and beaucoup Charlie
|
1459 2 0
|
He also had OCD. He had to kick every dog he met. Johnny killed a lot of dogs and was bitten by many others. He was a cruel bastard.
|
1459 0 0
|
The pit of my stomach was bottoming out, this lurching sort-of feeling one experiences when one has coasted WELL OVER an abyss and has no way of finding one's bearings . . .
|
1459 4 2
|
I got to see me the other day.
|
1458 2 1
|
An excellent plan. Just like old times.
|
1458 5 2
|
Once there was a man who wrote in code. He was comfortable among substitutions
|
1458 15 11
|
sentinels in a frost-blackened field
|
1458 4 0
|
Then it started extruding tendrils and tying them all into intricate knots.
|
1458 2 0
|
I can't believe it's Frankie, but there he is at a table on the far side, just in front of the big picture window. I hold the menu close to my face and peek again over the top, watching as he reaches under the white linen tablecloth to plant…
|
1458 5 2
|
—Now that’s a hell-of-a-painting, Frank, he said. Those colors are engaged in warfare. How the hell did you do that?
|
1458 10 9
|
...clash of gulls
wend upwards, disappearing into grey
night's high tide recedes
|
1458 7 3
|
edge of wolf howls and howls past sunflowers and skeletons
|
1458 2 0
|
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.
|
1458 2 2
|
My Thursday head belonged to a former Miss Brazil named Rita.
|
1458 2 2
|
“The window is a much better place to read,” she said.I wasn't aware she was talking to me, at first. In my typical manner, I was thinking about far off possibilities and realities completely detached from my own. Yet, here she was, a far off…
|
1458 5 1
|
It’s as she reaches into the fridge for the carton of half-and-half with the grainy waxy photo of the little girl—Last Seen 10/2/06—that the memory surfaces:
“Hey. That’s mine.”
|
1457 6 4
|
I'd wear my pajamas too, fitting for the big sleep
|
1457 5 3
|
Magdalena followed the receding tide, her tiny feet leaving no rumors in the hard sand. She gathered only the most beautiful shells and presented them to her waiting Abuela. Her grandmother told her that the only things that a woman truly owns are her dreams. She told her…
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