1357 3 2
|
He painted a woman on them, identical to the woman that kneeled by his bed.
|
1357129
|
Enumerate the small delights/ this bright first morning
|
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, …
|
135764
|
I woke up to the humming
of an empty space in the shape of a sweatshirt,
|
1357119
|
A cheap pocket knife was the only sharp I carried in my backpack and they allowed me that. The man with the pot tattoo on his neck said, “All of us here needs some type of knife. You gotta cut up your food. We don't…
|
135630
|
Every town has one. Or one at the very least...
|
1356911
|
The brain taints everything it brings to us/
with its limited apparatus, its precepts,//
all the things it thinks it knows.
|
135652
|
At 11 pm, it is 87 degrees and I sit in front of the air conditioner, eating oatmeal. The oats aren't soft enough, but it is sugary and fills me. Outside, the city hovers at the edge of a brown out, people sweating hopelessly inside small boxes. In Utah, it was cold…
|
135644
|
The bartender kept looking at himself in the mirror behind the bar. “Everyone in Hollywood is an actor,” Doc said.
|
135655
|
While watching the ever-present crowds
passing by on my insides, I noticed,
by accident, a man smiling
who might have been me, not sure.
Maybe I’m eating soap
for the first time, because I am
either frothing or foaming
at the mouth.
An
|
135695
|
"Possible candidates for reading to a crowd"
the subject line of the email to myself read.
You see, writing can be hard -
or writing can be easy.
But writing for a crowd you'll see is something else entirely.
|
135611
|
Come to the park and swing with me, sing with me.
|
135653
|
And your daughter, Mrs. P, and your daughter Mrs. Q, underwater, underwater in the old swimming hole, in the backyard swimming pool. “They’ve all got children there.” La la.
Yet when I’m naked, when I enter with my own body the mirror, the small sha
|
135644
|
Feelin’, feelin’ good, down-fallin’ down/rain, rain, rain came today,/wet alfresco alchemy
|
1355116
|
Jane knew what to do
when she heard murmurs in the ceiling,
knew what to do when she struck out on the moor.
|
135565
|
|
1355115
|
As air warms and warm/
winds stir, green becomes the force/
that surges the plains.
|
135595
|
Then I found myself in the water.
|
135511
|
õõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõ
|
135551
|
you'd do him more of a favor to kill him, than place upon him the burden of such an abrupt change in travel plans.
|
135564
|
In a field of barley, I see you, ...
|
135593
|
Remembering his body makes me think of Egyptian cotton sheets dried in the sun. He smelled crisp and clean even after sweating hard. His hair fell in golden spirals down his cheeks, his back, over his forehead, and captured light just like the gilded halos on…
|
1355179
|
let’s press our words into the clay/
in language so completely dead/
we have to re-imagine it.
|
135541
|
But tonight
while your finger
glides across
the glossy pages
of Popular Science
I hold a séance
for the Holy Spirit
in utter seriousness
among the book clutter
and crumpled manifestos
in the basement
|
135588
|
the brain plays impish tricks/
and entertains itself with avant garde/
home movies
|
135575
|
Cicadas shed their skin as they grow, leaving crisp hollowed out remains on tree trunks, fence posts, and the undersides of upturned leaves. Tommy and I would collect them in the early morning and stick them to our clothes like brooches. I used to like Tommy,…
|
135543
|
A tornado and peacock were bred in his paddock; the couple gave birth to a turquoise lasso.
|
135532
|
I didn't feel when you cut out my spine I'd been throwing up all night couldn't even smell the rust …
|
135565
|
To listen is to feel embodied reason//
sing and dance with consummate grace
|
