1541 10 6
|
The dictator, what'sisface, was crazy nuts.
|
154165
|
I can do the hot coals, no problem.
Or, your love, eyes closed.
Or your sneer, spank,
suffering, resentment, rejection.
|
154131
|
Sheep are very philosophical, I hear. Stop this hopeless dreaming.
|
154055
|
Gnarly Berger was born in a guitar case in Istanbul. His mother was an Iranian singer from Israel accompanied by a Turkish santur player & a French guitarist (Gnarly's biological father) and into whose guitar case Gnarly entered this world, somewhat by accident,…
|
154010
|
On Friday evenings they play Scrabble, a whole crowd of them. They use books to keep score, page numbers, instead of a long column of pencil scratches. They organize themselves into teams; the English majors all together, versus biology, history and horn players. She and he…
|
154011
|
Summer bakes the metal playground slide to ripples. Still, kids line up. Sadists, all of them. Lucky enough to choose pain. Max feels it every breath, unwanted.
|
154087
|
There is a war, but is it not In my heart? There is a war, but You are not the reason. There is a War, but we're all doing what we can. There is a war, but it is not just Your fight. There is a war, but I Wished you still walked…
|
1540910
|
When the dark shadows of his limp eyes told us life was slowly seeping away, stolen by his stroke, his wife signed the “DO NOT RESUSCITATE” order and, tearfully leaving the room, she turns, asking a final question, “Think a needy family could use his…
|
15401510
|
in which a man who is bored with years of retirement poses a threat to himself and others
|
154040
|
I await, here at Sandymount Strand / There's a stony bed and moistened sand / Couples dance away into futurity /
With their dogs upon the shore
|
154061
|
She burps in beauty, like a frog
Who sits on lily pad so green,
Resounding nightly in his bog
But to my eyes unseen.
|
154077
|
Harvey C. Hamby was drunk. Usually he held his liquor well, but tonight he was off his form. Stumbling over an ottoman, he landed on the floor in a sodden sprawl. As he fell, his left foot shot out behind him and socked Glenda Steinberg in…
|
154032
|
#2 The Typewriter Inside You by Harmon Gentle—I found this one at a garage sale when I was 15. Intended as a manual for sharpening one's typing skills, by the third chapter it became obvious that Mr. Gentle's sanity had slipped, and that rather than mastering the…
|
154022
|
I want to be adored for something and chose poetry to be that something adored for. But Annie doesn’t see why anyone would ever choose anything over love.
|
154011
|
Andrew had learned the art of being a chameleon at school where his school uniform provided an exoskeleton. Beneath was no costume, just the fragile skin of adolescent ego.
|
154065
|
I was low on carburetor / oxygen and my fraud protection / had just expired.
|
15391011
|
I fall in love with a second cousin at the picnic. I make sure I sit next to her.
|
153966
|
It’s Independence Day. But I’m not feeling independent.
|
1539148
|
Even music relies on what/
you know as music/
for its power to enthrall.
|
153944
|
Ok, ok, people are forever asking me, so why did I cross the frickin’ road? Dumb-shit me, of course. Consequences waaay unforseen.
|
153940
|
Then it started extruding tendrils and tying them all into intricate knots.
|
153911
|
A mundane endeavor depicted as a quest. Try it, you'll like it!
|
15392110
|
I approached him slowly. His voice was soft and raspy. He said, "Kneel down my son, I've been expecting you."
|
153900
|
The young man pulls out his wallet, grabs a couple of bills and stops short of handing them to the bedraggled man. “So how do I know you’re not going to go out and buy some crack with this money?”
|
153901
|
On the street / The protesters stand / Yelling words empty as wind
|
153952
|
—Now that’s a hell-of-a-painting, Frank, he said. Those colors are engaged in warfare. How the hell did you do that?
|
1539109
|
...clash of gulls
wend upwards, disappearing into grey
night's high tide recedes
|
153921
|
"That zit on your forehead just won't go away, will it, sweetie?" she adds as she brushes her daughter's bangs downward.
|
153895
|
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.
|
1538105
|
The washing machine at home was broken. It was an old leaky Maytag. A discouraging mess—twisted panties, sky-blue jeans, and an old lover or two or three floating downstream (the reverse of spawning salmon). Each man was slightly drowned,…
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