1348 7 7
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You don't have to push back so hard. We wore our hair long. We wanted the animals to trust us in their wild open spaces. Everything will come undone. We wore our hair long because we wanted to Be able to find our way home in the dark…
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134731
|
There is a the reason for the theft of people and the melting of gold
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134743
|
The shirts hanging by the back veranda serve as our memorial to them.
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134743
|
Nights this husband returned home still hungry sometimes, even for her forearms against his own
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134752
|
The manicured lawn rolls down either side of the knoll, punctuated with flat granite plaques, the occasional bouquet of cut flowers, a smattering of faded eight-inch American flags.
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134730
|
You’ve got me standin’ on my knees,
A’searchin’ for a beggar’s alms,
From folks who’re deaf to all my pleas
And blind to open palms.
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134755
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If we go back in time
We are living in tents
If we go back in time
We are living in caves
We are fighting over rivers
We are fighting over fields
Near the soft edges of slime
If we go back in time
Nothing would have us
And we had t
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134742
|
Q:What made you want to be a person who rides a train?
A:As soon as I learned there was such a thing, I wanted to be one.
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134711
|
The Bird King is trapped behind the mirrors. Sometimes you'll see a hand, a wing, fluttering in a dark space. You may even see his breath, a pulse of mist in a corner of the glass. But don't ever smash his silvered prison. Don't ever let him out and into the world.*****O…
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134743
|
—Strip down to your shorts. Put on this gown, open to the rear.
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134711
|
A hinge in my heart is broken.
|
134621
|
The kitchen is full of old girlfriends. I avoid them. They are munching on cheddar and sharing stories I'm sure I don't want to hear.
|
134630
|
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134600
|
Two women are escorted to the desert, where they are shackled to the ground. Who are they, what have the done, and will they survive?
|
134621
|
Sometimes when I fall I see a ...
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134610
|
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.
|
134632
|
sometimes it's hard/ to leave the house in the morning/ when bed is so comfortable/ and you're so far away.
|
134654
|
We sat up in bed. It's two o'clock in the morning. Blinding circular flashlight beams probe through the half pulled shades. Magnified black silhouettes of men's torsos lumber back and forth in the yard. We are in a fishbowl and being invaded.
|
134664
|
I'm an older guy. She is still quite young. I tell her I may be too old but she giggles and tells me that she did the research and it said because there is snow on the roof doesn't mean no fire's in the stove. She proved it. Things like this. We excite ourselves,…
|
134621
|
I stared at these meteor impacts, feeling far away, a lone sentient cloud admiring the scoured yet wondrous earth-of-this-girl below me, the lean slope of her side, the soft dip of her neck, the sharp edge of her cheekbone, the monarch wing of her eyelash
|
134642
|
I give you the rattle of the rattlesnake. I give you a daub of creosote. I give you the metaphysics of glue.
|
134553
|
I arrange 15 restatements of how lovely you are forward then backward, horizontally then vertically then along the diagonals.
|
134511
|
For example, I never noticed that the moon had eyelashes, not until tonight. You said you couldn’t really see that, not at all. You preferred the fact that the word “lunatic” sounded like an attic on the moon...
|
134587
|
Reading at Menlo Park Senior Center,
old people falling asleep leaning to the left in their chairs,
all in the same direction.
|
134530
|
he flies away
past the green explosion,
into the azure sky
|
134521
|
The man could be a total brute, though the truth was he had the softest of hearts too. A real gentle giant. But get him going on a drunk jag with too much ouzo in his system, and look out.
|
134582
|
The lawyer is having a party the next weekend.... He's celebrating because he won a court case to have his alimony reduced.
|
134500
|
He then spent his walk home to his single apartment spitting up various textures of red, combinations of cherry and blood mostly.
|
134512
|
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134543
|
I used to fear things. The lonesome wind come through the clapboards. Dry hillsides rustling. My own skin in the summer heat. Rattlers. Lurking. Abandoned coal pits. Pa said I was afraid of desolation. I didn't know what he meant by that. How can you be…
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