1551 12 9
|
I smelled the bleach of burst anemones
the sweet arousal of the Dungeness crabs
the seaweed of sour twigs and feces
|
155100
|
He woke up four hours later in his car in his garage with the worst headache of his life. He lurched out of the car and kicked over a basket of basil as he toddled towards the door to the house. He stopped and scooped the spilled basil back into the baske
|
155165
|
I know someone in need of healing.
|
155111
|
The dance draws deeper
whirling witches weaving rhymes
The fire spits fierce in the falling rain
soon the spell will spill from secret times
|
155131
|
"Look Emily, I’m charging your solar powered calculator and helping you relieve your dependence on foreign oil."
|
155161
|
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…
|
155152
|
—Now that’s a hell-of-a-painting, Frank, he said. Those colors are engaged in warfare. How the hell did you do that?
|
15511711
|
...when they entered eager lungs hungry from deep and sweaty love
|
155187
|
...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.
|
155143
|
The plane passes the runway, dips sharply, its shadow straight down below, too cold in the cabin, the sun hitting your arm like a machete below, it is 94, the humidity too, it has just rained for 3 days, it never rains this time of year......
|
155143
|
A tornado and peacock were bred in his paddock; the couple gave birth to a turquoise lasso.
|
155164
|
I woke up to the humming
of an empty space in the shape of a sweatshirt,
|
155100
|
Osama couldn’t see any reason he shouldn’t retire. No way he could top BP Oil in the Gulf or Pacific Gas & Electric in San Bruno.
|
155001
|
She could see him doing these things but she could not hear him.
|
155000
|
Online dating. Russian women. Beware.
|
155010
|
Even before I tap on the door I know I am being watched with one eye. My footsteps have surely given me away. A swift tug on it reveals her to me—half of her, that is, and I slink past the threshold, to her. From her eyes I see that she has…
|
155022
|
You have such a complicated mind /
for refusing to believe in God /
just like any damned liberal /
whose fingerprints /
crowd the faces of a thousand /
dollar bills /
being passed around your great nation...
|
1550128
|
the two become one where/
all things end,
|
155054
|
They have their own homes to fill with bought and sold dreams. Their own babies to care for and feed. The world is big enough to have more layers than you can ever imagine. The lights will show you a way when you have turned too dark for your own…
|
155055
|
philanthropy corrugated with a smirk / printed aside every cardboard box and room / every cardboard house with every cardboard door.
|
155064
|
... he could feel the pointed picket spears.
|
155032
|
He painted a woman on them, identical to the woman that kneeled by his bed.
|
155065
|
To listen is to feel embodied reason//
sing and dance with consummate grace
|
1550115
|
Among the raindrops/
occasional plopping snowflakes.
|
155022
|
I want to be adored for something and chose poetry to be that something adored for. But Annie doesn’t see why anyone would ever choose anything over love.
|
154912
|
In today’s print-on-demand and digital world, there are unlimited avenues for aspiring writers to circulate their work, but deregulation and limitlessness often leads to chaos. Writers are more inclined to release unpolished work that fails to rise to the
|
154932
|
I used to be a poet, you know. /
Better, in many respects, than you.
|
1549105
|
The washing machine at home was broken. It was an old leaky Maytag. A discouraging mess—twisted panties, sky-blue jeans, and an old lover or two or three floating downstream (the reverse of spawning salmon). Each man was slightly drowned,…
|
154911
|
I dream about the boy in The Neverending Story, the gate of mirrors, and the Nothing, a dark cloud that floats in the sky, takes away everything.
|
154951
|
The clip-clopping of footsteps now echoes from the opposite end of the alleyway, and as you turn to face the figure who appears behind you, the figure wearing a fierce Noh-drama mask, you determine that this time you will enlist its aid in decoding this r
|
