1462 4 4
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146252
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Have you ever seen a body of words give birth to a paragraph? I won't lie. It's a little gross. But quite moving. First there is the biology of reproduction. A blackbird living in an electric guitar, for instance, and its inexplicable urge to mate with an elephant.…
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1462118
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We must sometimes see the world/
as the pale blue dot//
surrounded by brighter dots/
and that endless field of darkest dark.
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146252
|
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…
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146210
|
My name is Jeremy, and I am in love with a zombie.
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14621911
|
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146240
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Dear Patricia, You look marvelous. You seem marvelous. You've added wonder to Oprah's life and that's no small feat. But, here's the thing. I was working on this short story about a relative trying to get in touch with O, one of thousands, except, this one, well this one…
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146275
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This late November day there are too many leaves filling the yard.
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146255
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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
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146286
|
Removing the deeply embedded jack-blade frommy naked side, like any slicked-upsplinter, was just a bit jarring on the first bite, on first try, I must admit. I freelydo so now to your frozen-over faces. You made your…
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146266
|
And here’s a picture of you
at the end of the line
to the great toilet of
fiction, waiting to
relieve yourself, quick
before the poetry gets to you.
Or worse, the actual
poets.
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146244
|
My father died. I took his clothes.
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146210
|
“I'll have the Ribeye cooked medium rare,” says Bill, who looks over at Julia, blonde hair and disarming smile, and he thinks that she's not bad for a blind date. He doesn't like the way she butters her roll, however, and it agitates him that she spreads…
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1462115
|
Among the raindrops/
occasional plopping snowflakes.
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146200
|
Ayane took another look of the area and it was large warehouse. A loud thud vibrated outside.
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1461116
|
Jane knew what to do
when she heard murmurs in the ceiling,
knew what to do when she struck out on the moor.
|
146165
|
When I slip through the seams I return to the same place.
|
146198
|
Dressed as an English professor on Halloween
I escape the red devil and run downtown.
I go to the Art Car hangar
I dance, I swing my golden brown briefcase
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14611510
|
in which a man who is bored with years of retirement poses a threat to himself and others
|
146120
|
I can’t deny you’re beautiful, though it’s unsure how many of your defects are fudged by my myopia.
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146111
|
Baby Teak can access Wikipedia by rubbing two xylophone mallets together.
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14611310
|
This time the bag's bigger/than the boy and the door.
|
146111
|
Pen or sword? Pick one/choose your battles carefully/for the paths oppose
|
146176
|
in a willow garden lush shade/drapes dark the young woman's small house/with the lone window, the white door . . .
|
146021
|
In the ’70′s, Bigfoot was romantically linked with Farrah Fawcett, spotted in an Arkansas 7-11 with Elvis, and tabbed the front-runner to be Secretary of the Interior had Gerald Ford defeated Jimmy Carter.
|
146020
|
Ruth carries always a small bottle of nitroglycerin; and tissues, wads of tissues; two Tums (for calcium, she tells me)...
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146021
|
I don't know what I'd expected from the week of mourning after my mother died but I sure hadn't pictured this marathon cocktail party. Our house is packed with people, food, booze and borrowed chairs. People I haven't seen in years keep turning up with casseroles.I'm…
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1460108
|
One day, my feet and hands got into an argument. My feet argued that they were superior because they were not only the foundation of my body, but the cause of its mobility. They were modest in size, yet supported and transported an entire body that towered over them.…
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146010
|
I’m not ready for football. I’m not ready for it, but I live in a southern town that worships at its altar more devoutly than those suicidal beauties in James Wright’s great poem.
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146054
|
. . . how a body calls
in the dark. . .
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