1482 8 6
|
and, once in a rare while,/
actual pearls.
|
148202
|
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.
|
14821310
|
This time the bag's bigger/than the boy and the door.
|
148242
|
In the mode of Swinburne's ‘Dolores':For the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster- A study of the notion of “Intelligent Design” Since the universe came into dawning, If e'er this bright universe did, Men ought to know better in…
|
148276
|
in a willow garden lush shade/drapes dark the young woman's small house/with the lone window, the white door . . .
|
148286
|
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…
|
1482116
|
Everything is bound to change like / a damsel to the tracks.
|
148174
|
these tender girls tears recent / with stained souls, brides of dead, / cadaverous Erebus; unguarded ladder / long the down going…came Anticlea then
|
148161
|
|
148130
|
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…
|
14811210
|
A man of action would take to his rake/
but Sloth would rather watch and wait/
for snow to erase each leaf on leaf.
|
148110
|
Marcy was not herself today, her mother said when the school called. She was under the weather and she could not play with the other children. Marcy's mother began to suspect that her daughter was not herself very early on that day. Walking up the stairs Dolores…
|
148110
|
Flicking through the sheets on her clipboard, Evelyn double checked the address with the mismatched numbers on the letterbox. Its mouth was a rusty, gaping grin like it had lost its dentures.
|
148142
|
The rain is filling up my shoes,
I can’t see
through my glasses,
Rain all inside me.
|
148162
|
your light is gonna
last me
through the week
|
148155
|
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
|
148122
|
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
|
148121
|
Neither you nor I is old enough, of course,
to remember that America’s most
popular athlete once was a horse.
|
1480146
|
So many dreams I need to visit, though
|
148020
|
Ruth carries always a small bottle of nitroglycerin; and tissues, wads of tissues; two Tums (for calcium, she tells me)...
|
148000
|
He woke up four hours later in his car in his garage with the worst headache of his life. He lurched out of the car and kicked over a basket of basil as he toddled towards the door to the house. He stopped and scooped the spilled basil back into the baske
|
1480108
|
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.…
|
148075
|
The pool deck was covered with the bloody footprints of resident gawkers.
|
148054
|
. . . how a body calls
in the dark. . .
|
148098
|
It's as if the house knew I was relinquishing my hold on it.
|
148083
|
goes on and on. Like it's a sad mad season on Mars, well it isn't, is it? Sometimes I have towonder whatever happenedto us, to make us forget how well we already know how tosing as good as any larks do? I have never wantedto drown, but I've…
|
148032
|
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. …
|
148042
|
In the summer of 1963 I went to Philadelphia to study with a member of the Philadelphia Orchestra.
|
148087
|
He invited her in for a Martini and she graciously accepted.
|
148095
|
"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.
|
