1440 3 1
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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.
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144051
|
There was no provision for keeping the post on the door, but I did not have the fingernails to pry it off.
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1440128
|
That’s a long time/
to live with the certainty/
of your death
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144030
|
blackberry pie and huckleberry wine and litte Maria with her summerset bangs
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144010
|
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
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144011
|
My mother gave her all to convince him to be a politician. My sister begged on bleeding knees for him to give her head. I just needed somebody to help me find things.
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1440117
|
You are a warm winter
Despite the presence of snow
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1440115
|
Blue skies greet us as we exit the forest . . .
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144031
|
Sheep are very philosophical, I hear. Stop this hopeless dreaming.
|
143965
|
I know someone in need of healing.
|
143921
|
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…
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143931
|
My beloved lets me crawl into bed
and put my feet on him
since his skin is
warm and hot like a fire roaring from within
his soft flesh.
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143933
|
She calls me by my name. She says I am her daughter.
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143921
|
At eight o' clock: as, drawn by many bells, The patchwork congregation lopes and stalks, To churches far from serenade of shells To storms, we leave behind the windblown walks, And sails of youth, to glide through liquid hells, A temporal…
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143962
|
Speaking of stiff nipples, I heard you once wanted to become a painter, because of your fondness for nipples. Feeling like Gauguin and his little Polynesian women/girls, are we? So, you're going to try to out-paint God, are you, Mr. Sistine Chapel of the
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143964
|
In a field of barley, I see you, ...
|
143921
|
Vietnam, Tet, and beaucoup Charlie
|
143932
|
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…
|
143900
|
Mayumi noticed everything moving in real time. Everyone just stared and a woman approached her to see if she was okay. Once Mayumi felt the woman’s hand touch her shoulder, her skin crawled and she ran.
|
143934
|
But the restaurants put pig in every little dish. You couldn't eat there without encountering some portion of pig. It was in everything, including the cabbage. Who puts pig in the cabbage? I'm asking you. And in the dumplings too. For God's sake, give it
|
143976
|
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…
|
143987
|
By the sixth - Dizz, Falstaff buzzed - Croons - The Wabash Cannonball
|
143964
|
I woke up to the humming
of an empty space in the shape of a sweatshirt,
|
143922
|
“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…
|
143955
|
She thinks this is the place she dreamed
|
143820
|
They think because you are a writer you are not much of a listener and so you begin to recognize all of the great opportunities to be much more of a listener and then you shut your trap and get sucked into the whorls of her big wet brown eyes with Italianate…
|
143831
|
Sweaty feet, drool from the weighty sleep of mid-afternoon naps, the inescapable perspiration of the South: all combine to create the entwined scent of socks and stale toothbrushes...
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143874
|
Not all ideas are bad, just mine.
|
143866
|
I feel his hand on my face, feel it brush past my lips, and I taste my sister's blood.
|
143810
|
Another noise, softer than the first: swish, thud. You are still. The house is very loud tonight.
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