1450 2 1
|
I remember sitting there on the first unfinished rooftop, watching you building houses out of words. You hammered in grammar and punctuation; you said these things needed to be hammered in by hand. You drove the long straight exclamation …
|
145097
|
Jeanne and I were married for eight years. I never knew her.
|
145053
|
Oh my god - A plagiarizing pony - I know someone must have said that before
|
145000
|
I was watching the bustling crowd below, sipping on a teacup full of Victory Gin when the scream, no a howl, cut through the murmuring of footsteps and telescreens.
|
145032
|
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. …
|
14501711
|
...when they entered eager lungs hungry from deep and sweaty love
|
145087
|
...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.
|
145011
|
Pen or sword? Pick one/choose your battles carefully/for the paths oppose
|
145011
|
Andrew had learned the art of being a chameleon at school where his school uniform provided an exoskeleton. Beneath was no costume, just the fragile skin of adolescent ego.
|
145053
|
“There is a fine line between love and hatred.” This was what his closest friend, Bob Sanders, had said to him many years ago. And it had finally and irrevocably proven to be so.
|
144966
|
It’s Independence Day. But I’m not feeling independent.
|
144900
|
What do I understand?
What have I mastered or come to terms with?
|
144965
|
When I slip through the seams I return to the same place.
|
144932
|
We were talking in the dark in my room. He lay on a mattress on the floor. He came for a sleepover.
|
144998
|
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
|
144973
|
I experience a presence when walking through the forest . . .
|
144955
|
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…
|
144975
|
This late November day there are too many leaves filling the yard.
|
144987
|
|
144943
|
—Strip down to your shorts. Put on this gown, open to the rear.
|
144821
|
My eyes are wide open. I look like a graphic novel. My world is black and white. I’m poorly drawn. All sounds have an exclamation point.
|
144853
|
Seeking your will, instead we found, somehow, a clutch of our own documents;
folded under a rubber band gone to rot,
muddy strands nestled in the creases.
|
144820
|
Ruth carries always a small bottle of nitroglycerin; and tissues, wads of tissues; two Tums (for calcium, she tells me)...
|
1448108
|
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.…
|
144800
|
We trade broken phrases of English, Arabic...
|
144832
|
A young boy, breathing heavily from running, stopped at her feet, barely able to speak,
|
144833
|
The idea of an infinite textual universe occurs in many places in the works of Jorge Luis Borges. The contexts and permutations of language, which others had held to be perhaps infinite (allowing themselves to use such an imprecise term), that…
|
144841
|
I'm in the boardroom, downtown in San Francisco. I don't even remember showing up for work today. I hope they fire me, just like they fired Bill. Well not exactly like that, that was awful. He was caught downloading a phenomenal amount of…
|
144800
|
I play in the dirt with cattle bones
while Mother rattles the sky.
She tells me I have my fathers eyes.
The words come through bloody fissures in her lips.
|
14481310
|
This time the bag's bigger/than the boy and the door.
|
