1353 6 5
|
I left the train, still going nowhere, but in a hurry.
Still a boy, but trapped in a suit.
|
135394
|
I’m not / going to change you I /promise
|
135350
|
"The Chinese don't have no Mardy Grah, bitch."
|
135310
|
Talking to Shakespeare by the riverside,
I am saddened by my lust for women,
how my eyes fixate on the spit that passes from top to bottom lip as they talk to me.
|
1353118
|
|
135311
|
It's a haiku. It's its own snippet.
|
135377
|
I remember the first & only time I parachuted it was 1964 my 16th birthday a rite of passage if you will from the old man an aerospace engineer & former WWII B24 bomber pilot I practice-jumped from oil barrels taught how to fall back then when the time came…
|
135320
|
Night became day and back again in the span of a heartbeat, the familiar strangeness of the sudden change stinging like dust in the eye.
|
135351
|
It starts with a letter, down the back of the couch, ending, ‘love, always.' I read only the kisses aimed at me - a firing line running off the page. How long has that letter hidden there? It secreted itself in a corner of the house…
|
135355
|
where will we be/ when it happens?
|
135341
|
That is the question,
not to be or not to be
Life, death, whether to be,
all that is superfluous
in the face of laughter
and how to achieve it
under extraordinary circumstances
like not drinking anymore
I’m afraid not all the alcoh
|
135211
|
Behold! Passion fruit!Aureolin sun condensedRolls off palm and tongue.Spurn taut rounded skinWait for wrinklesRipeness revealed, resplendent —The pinnacle of worth.
|
135254
|
still curious of the taste of eggs
finally licking my plate
|
135276
|
I almost caught a poet today.
|
135240
|
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…
|
135222
|
Or, do my own red flags counter balance his. My back and forth, my restlessness, my one foot out the door, my ‘once a leaver… always a leaver’, my pitter patter for a former flame... peppered with my transgressions, my mistakes. Or, worse, the way I have
|
13521312
|
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…
|
135200
|
Behind the bellicose façade lay a soft, compassionate soul. He sat within a swirl of rosy twilight hues, buoyed by the gently creeping tide. A dark wall approached and he mechanically spun and began stroking into the glassy canvas of light and ocean that lay between him…
|
1352910
|
So where does that leave me, Roscoe Loomis wondered, dismounting his silver, aluminum steed in his sweat-soaked, spandex outfit, and, clearing the saliva from his beard he walked over, checked and smiled, learning that the bike track's timing unit showed it was Roscoe's…
|
135211
|
I am only ever
What you seem to be
Without the leverage
Of sweet reality
|
135276
|
Maybe it was a trick of the gloom.
|
135254
|
|
135232
|
“Guys, who would you rather live with.... Mom... or Dad.”
His younger siblings giggled in shock, not that they hadn’t thought about it... apparently.
"You know I'm right here..." I joked, waving at them.
“I’d rather live with mom.” the question-a
|
135200
|
To a tech-savvy millennial, the definition of progress is a hands-free blowjob, and the real number is not how many men you’ve been with but how many minutes you’ve made them wait.
|
135142
|
They waited not a moment longer than was necessary But moved right in and
Began their loathsome ch
|
135166
|
It’s Independence Day. But I’m not feeling independent.
|
135176
|
Ross, I've been a ghost hunter for almost 10 years now and this is a place I said I WOULD NEVER NEVER EVER go to!
|
135184
|
A man bows his head
and crosses his chest
before crossing the street
and the rain keeps falling
on his bare blue shirt
and on top of his head
The taxis will not stop
The light’s still red
as the man waits
for the sign of the hands
|
135177
|
|
135153
|
We entered the castle at dawn. The dim light feebly illumined an array of antiques and medieval weapons. Bats dangled from the high vaulted ceiling, enfolded in membranous wings. What were once chandeliers radiating light were encrusted with webs and the ancient wax…
|
