1477 0 0
|
Fat Patty sniffs the delicate waft of peat and sidles over, proffering a grope in exchange for a few wet-lipped swigs. Hell yes.
|
147702
|
We’d told her that Kasey waitressed. We talked about it a lot, trying to figure something out. I wanted to be honest with her. Kasey said she was too young to understand. I said that was why honesty wouldn’t hurt anything. Kasey said what about later.
|
147799
|
It’s layer VII we adore/
and mourn
|
1477139
|
The line weights are spot on/
and the snap of lines is textbook/
for a discipline that died with AutoCad
|
1477116
|
Everything is bound to change like / a damsel to the tracks.
|
147787
|
|
147790
|
Of flowers there Are none In June No sun Upon my cheek The gentle breeze Stirs me not The smiles They cloud my vision Birds they Sing their songs But I hear Them not When tears Rain down My heaven.
|
147661
|
|
1476109
|
My student assistant was a comely young woman. A freckle faced blonde. She was from Ohio.
|
147677
|
I could put on some music, but it just pushes me further away from you, so it seems. It takes me out far beyond the safety breakers and then reintroduces me to my own splashing two-fisted fear of swimming. You can swim through …
|
147621
|
‘what’s the hassle kiddo, chopping meat is fun, come here and listen to the music of the chop, the sound of steel ripping through air, slicing through flesh and hitting wood, poetry I say’.
|
147610
|
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.
|
1476105
|
Cultivate your vaginal tears
at the gates of Thigh and Holy.
|
147621
|
He stood in front of her. They stood eye to eye. "You aren't supposed to look me in the eye. If I were anyone else you would be smacked down on the ground right now. Treat me as you would a lover, your master."
|
1476179
|
let’s press our words into the clay/
in language so completely dead/
we have to re-imagine it.
|
147652
|
If there was another way to describe emptiness, I'd word the endlessness of the sky, of the ocean at low tide.
|
147695
|
"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.
|
147633
|
I reach out and grab a can of soup with each hand and spin them around to dive into this much-heralded sodium situation. It's a landslide. I almost smile as I put low sodium back and continue to hold tightly onto regular.
|
14761310
|
This time the bag's bigger/than the boy and the door.
|
147622
|
what was she like you ask? smarter than me for instance she could type alot faster. and she didn’t worry constantly about being poor or having a family looking over her shoulder. maybe that’s what she did with boys. 17 years later and she is in my bed
|
147686
|
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…
|
147544
|
The young boy woke to the sound of laughter. He blinked himself out of deep sleep and allowed…
|
147530
|
Roanne, just out of jail, went to cop. That is, she went to beg fat little Freddy the dopeman to front her once more. She'd have to fuck Freddy, of course, but, well, maybe he'd wait until after this time. Likely not…
|
14751210
|
A man of action would take to his rake/
but Sloth would rather watch and wait/
for snow to erase each leaf on leaf.
|
147554
|
. . . how a body calls
in the dark. . .
|
147500
|
We trade broken phrases of English, Arabic...
|
147522
|
If she was still breathing, Tom promised himself he would let her live, but right then his shoulder ached and his right hand was throbbing.
|
147532
|
Being an uncredited bonus composition, written in the sublimest access of divine afflatus this poet believes his lyric verse has ever known. “In olden times, dark was not counted fair”: Those were the words, I think, of some old poet. …
|
147500
|
When his mother was all dressed up on New Year’s Eve, and his father, even thought they had tickets for the dance, announced to her he wasn’t going to go, Johnny had gone into his room, put on a white shirt, a dark suit, his dress shoes, and a clip-o
|
147521
|
Neither you nor I is old enough, of course,
to remember that America’s most
popular athlete once was a horse.
|
