1483 5 5
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It's been a bad year, People dying. Some too close to home, Some too far away. I cry down to you, In your casket, and think you might sit up. You were not sick You went in just a moment, Looking stunning and alive. Not…
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1483128
|
the two become one where/
all things end,
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148362
|
|
148351
|
There was no provision for keeping the post on the door, but I did not have the fingernails to pry it off.
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1483116
|
fanned lashes on rouged cheek
a glamorous sea creature
in violet perfume
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148364
|
She stiffens and blusters and roars
Not like a storm,
Not like a lion.
Like a badger, caught in the steel jaws of a trap.
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148300
|
Even the old medicine woman seemed to grin with a perverted sort of understanding when she opened the door to find Lys waiting outside. She was comfortable nowhere and ready to flee at any moment.
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148241
|
This poem first appeared in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, founded by Walt Whitman in 1838.
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148264
|
After the Tokyo experience, Frank and Michiko decided that when she went on extended tours, Frank would accompany her.
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148231
|
My beloved lets me crawl into bed
and put my feet on him
since his skin is
warm and hot like a fire roaring from within
his soft flesh.
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148266
|
I feel his hand on my face, feel it brush past my lips, and I taste my sister's blood.
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148200
|
A life in NYC was one I always dreamed of but I found myself turning into a bitter, sarcastic person who was losing the ability to see the silver lining in just about anything.
|
148254
|
this is where we end --
the exorbitant eye of forgotten days.
|
148278
|
In and out of morphine dreams, he flies through the unfinished roof of Illinois sky. Below, matchbox-sized farm machines. A silo becomes his father's thermos, the silver-capped tower from which he stole sips at ten, his first secret. Back …
|
148273
|
Sometimes you have to go wild; you have just to go fucking nuts. You do.
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148243
|
The shirts hanging by the back veranda serve as our memorial to them.
|
148244
|
Lying on a high seat in the south study, this is what I see:
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148241
|
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…
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148210
|
I leapt up to retaliate when the clang of a distant door quieted my retesance. Shit, why am I so popular? I guess it was my turn to be thrown around like the guy in the Hotdog suit on the corner... Don't shoot the "Hotdog" guy... Please, please don't
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148280
|
Joe's, always smelling of cherry chapstick or the breeze that comes up from subway grates, used to service some of the finest dupes in town.
|
148200
|
Would we have been satisfied with a humble butter sculpture of a cow in 1960? Puh-lease! Would Parisians of the Impressionist era swoon over a big-eyed child picture?
|
148211
|
The Bird King is trapped behind the mirrors. Sometimes you'll see a hand, a wing, fluttering in a dark space. You may even see his breath, a pulse of mist in a corner of the glass. But don't ever smash his silvered prison. Don't ever let him out and into the world.*****O…
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1482108
|
He knows I talk to angels, what he would call angels. I don’t talk to him.
|
148121
|
An excellent plan. Just like old times.
|
1481158
|
Go diddle in the sand//
to save some other sinner/
a death of stones.
|
148130
|
Connor didn't bother to wait in the line of busy professionals, opting to cut in front of the sign that announced "Line Forms At Other End."
|
148110
|
Another noise, softer than the first: swish, thud. You are still. The house is very loud tonight.
|
14811312
|
My wife, Sheila, inadvertently clicked my e-mail address, too, when she sent her reply back to him and I read her poet friend's message that her love opened the window of his heart and she replied that his words were knocks that opened the door to her being, then I stood…
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148121
|
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…
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1481128
|
We suffer//
the one agony only- of having no longer/
any physical effect nor way to speak/
of what we watch to those we watch.
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