1384 6 1
|
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…
|
1384 5 3
|
God’s hearing aid is missing
And apparently needs an enormous battery
But no one has the
heart to tell Him
because who wants to be
shouting at God?
|
1384 3 2
|
He painted a woman on them, identical to the woman that kneeled by his bed.
|
1384 13 10
|
This time the bag's bigger/than the boy and the door.
|
1384 8 5
|
there's looks between the covers and shotguns in the drawer
|
1384 1 1
|
Shirley stubbed her cigarillo out on a dead chunk of honeycomb.
|
1384 1 1
|
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.
|
1384 0 0
|
Ayane took another look of the area and it was large warehouse. A loud thud vibrated outside.
|
1383 4 1
|
When I came back from California the second time, in the summer of 1965, I was the first around our town to wear my hair long, influenced by the Beatles. And I bought a bunch of blue caps that everyone in our gang wore, with the number “69” sown on
|
1383 1 0
|
Smiling, holding hands, Joe and Lara basked in the sunshine of the mid January day as they approached the diner. The temperature was warm enough for golf. Joe had played in far colder weather in spring and fall.
|
1383 6 5
|
We were offered mannequins that had pubic hair that grew and swirled, and could visit like a pet, and sit in your lap
|
1383 3 2
|
today on the bus/ a man in his fifties/ smiled at a baby/
|
1383 10 10
|
I dreamt I was raped the other night. Sometimes it was me, that is, and sometimes it was another woman with a dark bouffant hair-do. Definitely outside though and the hulking back of the man was covered by a charcoal wool…
|
1383 6 5
|
|
1383 1 1
|
The dance draws deeper
whirling witches weaving rhymes
The fire spits fierce in the falling rain
soon the spell will spill from secret times
|
1383 0 0
|
I should have never gotten involved in such a huge lie. I was a poet, for God's sake, not a novelist. I wasn't used to lying.
|
1383 4 2
|
i saw a sign and it read A PERSON THAT IS MEAN TO THE WAITER IS A MEAN PERSON i thought of you with your high cheekbones, the sense of entitlement unparalleled, the superiority complex that hid much you had a gig and it had probably…
|
1383 2 1
|
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…
|
1383 5 4
|
this is where we end --
the exorbitant eye of forgotten days.
|
1383 9 9
|
She said, "Tonight let's talk of things untrue and he said, ' Like black is white and night is day and up is down and in is out?' and she said, 'Yeah, those things we know to be false for sure like you know, like...well, you could say, 'I really love you' and I could say,…
|
1383 4 1
|
Miracles don’t happen to the poor.
|
1383 10 9
|
...clash of gulls
wend upwards, disappearing into grey
night's high tide recedes
|
1383 0 0
|
Early in the morning
I wanted to send you something
for when you wake;
|
1383 2 1
|
She’s always had one foot on a pedestal and the other in a gutter.
|
1383 7 6
|
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…
|
1383 2 0
|
Each had jostled and laboured for his or her place upon the blunt outcrop, in the cold persistent darkness, where the outcrop was merely something that had fallen and not quite been washed away.
|
1383 10 7
|
The Tea Party member was married but cuter. He worked as a caulker, a tub and basin man.
|
1383 2 0
|
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…
|
1383 12 6
|
|
1382 0 1
|
Galloping people, tangled in ballets of hot love, weaving in and out, making a canvas of it.
|