1500 3 2
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Eighteen-year-old Svetlana Kabalevsky was now the widow of the poet Dmetri Kabalevsky, soon to be another widow-whore on the Moscow highway.
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150074
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The marble, it's just there.
I can't explain
how it got there
(or when),
all I know
is that everything
is in that marble.
By "everything,"
I mean every
thing. Your breakfast?
It's there.
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150042
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Years ago, I was involved in a freakish tragedy so startling and heartbreaking that it made the front page of not only my local newspaper, but “People” and “The National Enquirer.” I'm not going to tell you anything about it. This means that…
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150041
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Miracles don’t happen to the poor.
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150094
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I’m not / going to change you I /promise
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150053
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150021
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My third Rule of Success—and I may not have these in exactly the right order–is always get a pre-nup!
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150066
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(no one need fear timidity in our tastes― /
we like trying new things, no matter our hastes!)
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150096
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Because we cannot know, we keep walking, keep getting up each morning, feeding the cat, drinking coffee. Because we cannot know I'm drinking coffee that morning in Thailand, not on the beach but just off, because there is only one spot where you can get real coffee,…
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149921
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Oh sweet, sweet morning light
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1499108
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When you need a vacation...from everything.
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149942
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I left Iowa in august when the air was thick and sticky. I had been there three years minus a few days when the boy I'd been sleeping with packed almost everything I owned into my car and waved goodbye. In Baltimore I had few friends and a job teaching English at a…
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149951
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“There are so few uses for Crisco, that to keep it in the house seems an unnecessary temptation,” said my health teacher.
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14991510
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The mirror can never talk back/
unless corrupted creases of the brain/
and its recombinant physical maladies//
elect to answer...
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149923
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I. Europa How else to begin but with Gustave Holst's Mars--the gods waging war in romantic twilight as drumbeats and cannons blast swathes in the gloaming and glory awaits in the halls of black smoke. A visual perhaps:…
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149932
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I asked him his name and here’s the kicker, Leiby. It means lion.
You know what? I said mine is Levi, how do you do.
That means to accompany—like in the root of the word, it’s got that meaning.
As in levayah, funeral in Hebrew. Does that only
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1499105
|
and, under foot,//
dark caves waiting/
with their unseen pigments/
adorning forgotten walls.
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14991410
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Sitting together at Starbucks, we composed a long love letter which we've been mailing back and forth to each other, signing our name upon each receipt and returning it for the last nine months and it has grown to eighty seven pages, barely fitting in a shoe box.
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149911
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an elongating boy with butter-yellow flecks in his eyes, and skin patched like a tabby.
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149921
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His touch, even now, seemed to set off tremors inside her.
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149866
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The world has long since been bootlegged by madmen. The new invisible con men are the same as the old visible con men, hiding and lying behind their walls of lingering death. There's a weapon wielding demon hell bent on an insane vengeance crawling around…
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149873
|
The drone of radio seeps into the car’s back seat… I hear only bits and pieces of information –
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149886
|
It is the fragrance of decay/
as paint, polymers and dyes/
outgas molecules of themselves
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149820
|
A rock group named Stuck Gas Pedal. Another named Tweezer. A group of young punk-rockers wearing neckerchiefs named Mein Kampfire. But wait, there’s more.
A song called “We Were Being Facetious,” co-written by them all.
Lost Flyswatter. That
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149811
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There's something about the way he touches me every time that makes my heart skip a beat and pushes the air from my throat. I shiver under his hot breath while he whispers softly and pulls himself closer, letting his fingers glide…
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149800
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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.
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149832
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Natty looking
in his 2-tone shoes
and argyle socks
blue blazer
with 3 gold buttons
on each cuff
pale yellow
hemp or burlap
necktie, of course
with a blue shirt
(never white!!)
long mopish hair
hanging on his forehead
and a
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149800
|
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…
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149801
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... threads are nasty things / That snag and pull and tear the cloth / And will not let me be.
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149833
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Where we’ve penned heart shaped question marks, seeds sprouting bowed heads, a congregation of confused supplicants.
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