1487 5 5
|
This was not the bar that the artist usually frequented.
|
148742
|
Last night we slept with books in the bed.
|
148744
|
"...,beautiful, yet neutral, an oversimplistic reading of the people we meet."
|
148756
|
beckoning with citrus streaks blue cobbled streets/and stuccos lit with gold lamps guide strollers here/to Place du Forum in Arles and this café . . .
|
148620
|
He had a lean build, except, remarkably, his midsection was perfectly barrel-like. As if he kept an alien lifeform in his belly, cultivated by years of Pabst and Yuengling transfusions.
|
148682
|
She wore no bra. As she jammed the truck into park and pushed against the heavy door, he saw the points of her nipples against her dress. Ice filled his belly, the most beautiful pink-colored ice.
|
148632
|
today on the bus/ a man in his fifties/ smiled at a baby/
|
148630
|
|
148642
|
A walled city doesn’t let you out any more easily that it has let you in earlier.
|
148664
|
When I look at the picture on my refrigerator, I always think the same thing: "Hitler was a baby once too, look how well he turned out."
|
148600
|
I should have never gotten involved in such a huge lie. I was a poet, for God's sake, not a novelist. I wasn't used to lying.
|
148611
|
Max sighed. Solving for x was boring, so mind numbingly boring that he didn't notice the flickering blue light hovering in his room. It crackled and popped, growing until a shimmering rectangle stretched from floor to ceiling.A hand pushed out from the rectangle, and a…
|
148622
|
I may as well have been sleepwalking. Either way, I had no opportunity to admire the moonlight flooding into the long corridors, illuminating the stag heads and painted cheeks of long-dead ancestors.
|
148632
|
I don't mind being dead. It's ok. Really. I've discovered a whole new way of being based on non-being. What else can you do? I like being invisible. I like groaning and rattling chains. I used to be a writer. Still am. In fact, it might be more accurate to say that…
|
1486129
|
...it was moving toward me from an oblique angle somewhere behind, steadily, relentlessly.
|
148600
|
Holding a bouquet of flowers wrapped in a tissue in one hand, a round shape that balances the round yellow burst of light that is her dress. While the flesh of her chest bulges forward and she balances as though in a holding pattern in flight.
|
148611
|
we all die from the bottom up
|
148610
|
"If you don't like it then leave!" Sally screamed.
|
148644
|
The bartender kept looking at himself in the mirror behind the bar. “Everyone in Hollywood is an actor,” Doc said.
|
148623
|
say no / to me / and devastate me / and I will take it / as god's will / to drown me / in a vat / of my own / entrails
|
1486169
|
Our disappearance would register/
as the movement of a sand grain/
on a windy beach full of sand.
|
148673
|
Shit, I guess I'm gonna hafta
|
1486103
|
I am confused by your new paper-doll look, btw. Could you please look regular again by Thursday?
|
148666
|
Then I did the same to you, inhaling your scent which was one thing at your hairline and another at your collarbone.
|
1486177
|
...bush tail beside him his closest comfort next to the genes...
|
148500
|
Now, we can argue about how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, but there is no doubt that it takes eight spritzes of Scrubbing Bubbles bathroom cleaner, three spritzes of Lime-Away, and then a 30 second spray of Oust to incapacitat
|
148597
|
|
148522
|
It's one of the most difficult problems of aesthetic philosophy: What do we mean when we say that a song is sad? None of the big names--Aristotle, Kant, Croce–Benedetto, not Jim–come close to answering it.
|
1485176
|
...Rabidosa rabida- no spinner/
of webs but a quick and cunning
solitary hunter. Anxiety overwhelmed
|
148543
|
Desert Storm, an Infrared Dream/Poem by the late David Avidan
On January 17, 1991 I woke up at 02:45 from a neo-surreal dream with a slight not very serious feeling of suffocation a pre-asthma attack instantly stifled with the inhalation of Ventolin an
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