1536 8 5
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In the diffuse light of early morning you wear a sweat suit maybe and stand in front of a model-kitchen counter in a model-home kitchen
|
153643
|
Breathe a stench of Eton musk...
|
153687
|
...coming into that bone yard, you just hang a right, go on past La Fontaine, and take a left a bit further on. Jimbo's right up in there.
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153674
|
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1536116
|
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, …
|
153621
|
"That zit on your forehead just won't go away, will it, sweetie?" she adds as she brushes her daughter's bangs downward.
|
153665
|
I was low on carburetor / oxygen and my fraud protection / had just expired.
|
153594
|
When we are given eternity, as a night is eternal
|
153510
|
My name is Jeremy, and I am in love with a zombie.
|
153510
|
The parrots woke Eddie up. That and Rocker snoring in the twin bed. A thousand parrots flying over the motel? They squawked, God how they…
|
153500
|
Licking my wounds.
That's what my mother calls it. I'm not really sure what that means or if it's true. Sure, losing your boyfriend, apartment and job in a matter of months can drive someone to do something impulsive. Something crazy. But I've always b
|
153554
|
this is where we end --
the exorbitant eye of forgotten days.
|
153563
|
It is midnight in Utah, but I can’t tell. It always looks like midnight in a cave.
|
153597
|
Jeanne and I were married for eight years. I never knew her.
|
1535109
|
...clash of gulls
wend upwards, disappearing into grey
night's high tide recedes
|
153500
|
Won't speak a word against 'em. Car trunk stunk like bad chicken long after, but I won't speak a word against 'em.
|
153567
|
The currents of events/
strip the molecules from cartilage,//
reverse polarity of ventricles—
|
153532
|
#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…
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153500
|
“She’s very sick. She’s dying,” and he smoothed my hair along my neck.
“It’s leukemia. A very rare type,” his hand reached my shoulder and stopped there.
“She only has a few months.”
|
153511
|
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.
|
153511
|
The Bird King is trapped behind the mirrors. Sometimes you'll see a hand, a wing, fluttering in a dark space. You may even see his breath, a pulse of mist in a corner of the glass. But don't ever smash his silvered prison. Don't ever let him out and into the world.*****O…
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153544
|
A rope is cleaner,
he explains with a straight face.
He's calmed by the visual.
|
153541
|
That is the question,
not to be or not to be
Life, death, whether to be,
all that is superfluous
in the face of laughter
and how to achieve it
under extraordinary circumstances
like not drinking anymore
I’m afraid not all the alcoh
|
153466
|
It’s Independence Day. But I’m not feeling independent.
|
153455
|
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…
|
153487
|
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…
|
153422
|
Suddenly I'm not feeling it anymore. /
Poetry has become insufficient. /
I can't do it like I used to.
|
1534116
|
I said hey man, how you doin’? He looked up and nodded but his shades flashed and I couldn’t see his eyes.
|
1534125
|
Monday will come soon enough to get/
what needs to be done, done.
|
153461
|
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…
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