1457 4 4
|
Once or twice, it was only once or twice. Three times, if I really count. And I wasn't giving or loving. And my self stayed hidden and I kept most of my clothes on.
|
145755
|
On the coldest day of the year, the weather man walks back from the measurement booth across a snowed-over plain, solid as cement and tinted with the pale yellow glow of the northern lights.
|
145720
|
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…
|
1457103
|
’m sure they have their/
cleverest working on it, though.
|
145755
|
“If your work is good you will get published. Just keep at it."
|
1457109
|
...clash of gulls
wend upwards, disappearing into grey
night's high tide recedes
|
145722
|
My Thursday head belonged to a former Miss Brazil named Rita.
|
1457116
|
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, …
|
145744
|
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…
|
145751
|
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.”
|
145640
|
Then it started extruding tendrils and tying them all into intricate knots.
|
145696
|
As I walked down to the Subway, I thought to myself that now, after the horror in Boston, everybody looks like a terrorist.
|
145642
|
If white t-shirts are only an SPF of 8, she couldn’t even imagine what a white nylon-mesh umbrella on this godforsaken beach might be in terms of protection.
|
145661
|
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…
|
145632
|
I’m casing the place; my boyfriend Jimmy is about to bust in and rob the store.
|
145621
|
Vietnam, Tet, and beaucoup Charlie
|
145632
|
I am useless. A freak. Different. They all hate me now. All except you, of course. You will never leave me. Never. I'd kill them all if I could. Every single one. But twenty-four, that's a lot even for me. I'm so sick of the cliques; the special groups and hastily strung…
|
145644
|
We'll all face the raging river, some sooner than others.
|
145676
|
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…
|
145632
|
I didn't feel when you cut out my spine I'd been throwing up all night couldn't even smell the rust …
|
145620
|
Now it's late. I am hanging upside down from a rope coiled around my crushed left ankle, the pain too sharp to be really felt, as the excess blood to my head makes my thoughts fuzzy. I am almost two meters from the rock face, thirty-five hundred meters above sea-level, the…
|
145695
|
|
145610
|
It was an eagle in the waves
Those eyes make no mistake
Especially from a mile high
Blue fish and tuna
Too dumb to run
|
145553
|
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…
|
145501
|
She could see him doing these things but she could not hear him.
|
1455107
|
Dreams / of being a millionaire are replaced by dreams / of being a billionaire
|
145541
|
This poem first appeared in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, founded by Walt Whitman in 1838.
|
145544
|
On a street-lit night in Jeddah.
|
145510
|
What if
Everything
I have been doing
Hasn’t been heard
By anyone?
|
145564
|
After the Tokyo experience, Frank and Michiko decided that when she went on extended tours, Frank would accompany her.
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