1060 6 6
|
Winter will be cold this year, you tell her. You read that. She says she is with child with her new husband. You tell her she's forty-five, it is selfish. The baby. It's fine. You demand to be at her tests. Evan may let you, she says. He's a doll. She would never use that…
|
106097
|
Sex is a fetish war --
a battle of trinkets of desire
|
106011
|
Who hasn't got a scar...some flesh wound of memory.
|
1060179
|
In the next week or two, the red oak/
will loose and lose its leaves
|
106031
|
No excerpts for you. Next!
|
106021
|
Librarians love me,
you want to know why?
I don’t dog-ear pages,
I don’t even try.
|
106031
|
Don’t get me wrong. Maria Shriver is hot, but her angled face makes me think a knife thrower is out to get me.
|
106040
|
New Year's Eve 1984: I was a hit with my outfit. When I walked into the house, a teenage girl looked me up and down and said, “Nice knickerbockers.” My cousins dragged me to the living room floor which was crowded with my family dancing and I started…
|
106076
|
Beneath maples, oaks, and birches/an autumn apocalypse empties unruly brightness
|
106062
|
your light is gonna
last me
through the week
|
10601211
|
Maybe, after years of writing poems like letters, he began to notice that no one ever wrote him back.
|
106011
|
always thought you'd show up with a good friendly grin, your heart full of gnosis and the rest of you dressed in denim or terrene hues,back from across the world to honor our sacrosanct thing maybe it would be in the wind chiseled afternoon,or the dusk by tables…
|
106011
|
Salted sea of summer fingers- sand and salted skinmelt in me; vanilla ice cream lick- your lips; salty kiss saliva- sweet salt of semen run down my chin languid-salty sweat of you.
|
106012
|
...Truth is, it’s because of fabulously wealthy men and women like myself who long ago sucked all the cream out of the bottle, and now we’re coming back for whatever milk remains.
|
106020
|
It takes almost an hour before I drift to sleep on the bus. When I wake up in Crescent City, I’m surprised. Maybe I was going somewhere else in my sleep. Walking out of the station, it feels like a strange place. Somewhere I’ve never been before. The
|
1060910
|
Fine gradations of the fractional/
fissure the eggshell whole we crave
|
106021
|
I came to a field where, scattered around, were quite a few men digging holes
|
106065
|
Clasped his hands behind his head to give a moment’s thought to love and how it had never quite clarified in his mind to run pure and sweet.
|
106063
|
My father seems anxious about my gender orientation. I grew up looking like a boy, acting like a boy. He bought dresses and girly stuff for me but he avoided making an issue of it until recently.
|
106055
|
Black bugs are falling, fluttering down
like big, black snow flakes.
Two bugs, almost always,
sometimes only one.
|
106001
|
|
106020
|
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…
|
1060105
|
I like it best when I wake up
And the wild rain of dreaming ends.
|
106044
|
|
1060129
|
Who owns the moon? What title search/
could ever make a claim?
|
106064
|
from here with its brightly polished fingers spread easily amongst the cresting winds off the choppysky, circling the sun and sea splattered cliffs like a lone marble rolling down a smoothed out incline only to be turned invisibly over again as if…
|
106021
|
Fate could have sent me any number of Sergeant-Detectives, but fate sent me one of Boston’s finest, Sergeant-Detective Sheila Magnuson. Aside from being a little undernourished Sheila Magnuson is possibly the world’s most beautiful Sergeant-Detective.
|
106011
|
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.
|
106055
|
|
105910
|
My first abroad journey completed. A picturesque way to end it all, really. I’m into that, I think to myself: making things play like movies or dramas or as beautifully as I can make them.
|
