1412 5 4
|
Uzma dashes up the stairs ahead of me . . .
|
141200
|
Who is the torturer and who is the tortured?
|
141250
|
Condensation on the Glass Riding down 22, I'm looking out the window. Time is a whirlwind. Your memory relinquishes itself, yellowed and fraying at the edges. It's raining and cold. I make a smiley face in the condensation …
|
141287
|
|
141211
|
Where the skin had grazed, shredded by the coarse gravel to form scabs, fascinated Jack. It reminded him of his youth and his own grazes, scratches and stitches. As a boy he imagined scabs were rough foundations of igneous rock, blood like lava pouring th
|
141223
|
Me sad because of results set forth in my life story.
|
141222
|
|
1411105
|
an engine stalls out
in the parking lot
the driver
tears her skirt
coming through the door
|
141141
|
Ben was not a happy musician.
|
141144
|
The young boy woke to the sound of laughter. He blinked himself out of deep sleep and allowed…
|
141120
|
Stay tuned for my next short - Candle Smoke Wishes - COMING SOON ON A MONITOR NEAR YOU!!
|
1411106
|
gravel coughing up tires at 90 miles an hour
and just getting under way
|
141195
|
I never meant to shipwreck you,
I didn't even know I was singing out loud.
I just stood on my rock a little too boldly,
and hummed a tune you wanted to hear.
|
14111911
|
|
141121
|
...to know they are not alone
|
141130
|
Maybe it might be best to, you know, have less frequent meetings.
|
141173
|
Shit, I guess I'm gonna hafta
|
141155
|
This was not the bar that the artist usually frequented.
|
141187
|
Downtown Milwaukee My feet are exposed, never been out in public even out here— …
|
1410107
|
This time the mountain climber does not attain the summit.
|
141065
|
No matter what you may discover
Or come to believe during the drinking life
The question still remains:
What if everyone was an accident?
But still, while time may appear
To be nearing its own end
And the sun seems to be getting
|
141011
|
*Must have excellent communication skills and be able to talk pretty good.
|
141010
|
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.
|
141098
|
It's as if the house knew I was relinquishing my hold on it.
|
141073
|
I experience a presence when walking through the forest . . .
|
141087
|
|
141033
|
Where we’ve penned heart shaped question marks, seeds sprouting bowed heads, a congregation of confused supplicants.
|
141011
|
an elongating boy with butter-yellow flecks in his eyes, and skin patched like a tabby.
|
141000
|
lying back on inviolable sheets, your breasts spread apart like a child’s open hands
you’d look up at me and smile
|
141086
|
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…
|
