1358 15 10
|
in which a man who is bored with years of retirement poses a threat to himself and others
|
135843
|
And he was wearing a mask. Gorilla mask over his gorilla face.
|
135834
|
But what “is” retirement? All of the previous sections in a life are full of detailed descriptions. But “retirement” is somehow left rather vague. One would think that retirement would be the long-awaited GOAL of life. But instead we are left with the
|
135800
|
I was watching the bustling crowd below, sipping on a teacup full of Victory Gin when the scream, no a howl, cut through the murmuring of footsteps and telescreens.
|
135841
|
Zusman snored on the sofa as Motel gathered his belongings in the dark. He moved quietly as had become his custom in the mornings. Initially he had tried not to wake his nephew on his way to work in the…
|
13581212
|
That afternoon she met me in the lobby of my hotel and we simply smiled at each other in the elevator going up to my room where we sat on the couch for about three hours and told of our lives, of being apart, for so many years, then sensing our time was nearly used up, I…
|
1358108
|
That TV you got me? Ruined. And the ionizer fan? Ruined too. All your clothes you left over here, all my work scrubs and weekend dresses too, soaked with that river stink water. I kept thinking bout all the dead creatures.
|
135854
|
A poem not about fog written in fog with an erasable pen.
|
135800
|
“I believe this is a case that is very much worth our time. Its probably the most important case thus far in your reign,” Henry said, “my lord.”
|
13571011
|
I fall in love with a second cousin at the picnic. I make sure I sit next to her.
|
1357148
|
Even music relies on what/
you know as music/
for its power to enthrall.
|
135764
|
The heart would have unnatural reverence, exalted, bursting with evil, rolling in sloth, if it did not at once reveal its innocence. I saw you again, on the morning of the sun. It was you, or your double, or a son you might have had. Your beautiful bloo
|
1357117
|
She had just done it in the backseat with the man she decided would be her father. Or maybe it was the cast of his eyes under the dim bar lights. Maybe she insisted that this had to be done, to relive the night under the stars, under a dented roof of a station…
|
135795
|
I never meant to shipwreck you,
I didn't even know I was singing out loud.
I just stood on my rock a little too boldly,
and hummed a tune you wanted to hear.
|
1357105
|
Cultivate your vaginal tears
at the gates of Thigh and Holy.
|
1357126
|
Have you heard this yet? The daughter flew home to care for the mother, whose pump is still tick ticking—though now with aid—which means she leaves the kitchen when the microwave clicks on.
|
135721
|
“Apollo twenty-two. Come in.”, the voice crackled through the speakers of the aircraft. There was only silence broken by a solitary meow and the slight whistle of oxygenated air through the ventilation system. “Captain Snuggles, now that you…
|
135766
|
I feel his hand on my face, feel it brush past my lips, and I taste my sister's blood.
|
135745
|
Art books, paintings, antique chairs, marble tables, full length gold gilded mirrors, oriental rugs, tapestries, a Louis XVI painted French armoire, a wrought iron Deco coffee table, flat ware, silver flasks, mantel lamps, iron gates, a silk settee, theat
|
135754
|
this is where we end --
the exorbitant eye of forgotten days.
|
135755
|
There’s someone in the audience who is immolating himself
Cutting his own leg over and over with a pen knife
And groaning: “Oh God, oh God”
And all I can think from up at the podium is
This guy must absolutely hate these poems
I am reading
|
135720
|
I couldn't think of anything that rhymed with "unibrow" except Tsing Tao, which is a brand of Chinese beer....
|
135754
|
Uzma dashes up the stairs ahead of me . . .
|
135795
|
We got a sandwich at Mr. Pickle's, but they cut the sandwich in the plastic. Plastic wrap.
|
135700
|
Early in the morning
I wanted to send you something
for when you wake;
|
135732
|
He painted a woman on them, identical to the woman that kneeled by his bed.
|
1357129
|
Enumerate the small delights/ this bright first morning
|
13571310
|
This time the bag's bigger/than the boy and the door.
|
135764
|
Poetry is conceit; emotional, intellectual or technical.
|
1357116
|
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, …
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