The mirror can never talk back/ unless corrupted creases of the brain/ and its recombinant physical maladies// elect to answer...

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.

As the light changed and exhaustion set in, Suzy and Molly batted back and forth one more knock knock joke to avoid going home.

Feeding you a taste of croissant

In the state that the stars fell on, Love and I stumbled upon bits of God where he forgot sky and moon, too.

they flew down the slopes with her holding on for all she was worth

rheumy eyes wink, gnarled hands pantomime

7 — IT'S HARD TO HAVE FRIENDS WHEN YOU'VE NEVER HAD ANY AND ARE STILL FUCKING WHINING ABOUT IT — Once he learned he didn't “bring anything to the table,” Worthless Veikass hit on the notion of [...]

When the poet loves,/ I said, quoting the poet,/ he loves himself.

I am not responsible for any nightmares this piece may cause for all you mice lovers!

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:…

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

Suppose you could bend your whole body backwards, like she did, you know, like a taunt, powerful bow and arrow kit, and push the rest of your truest self forward into his concentrated face, just like Georgia O'Keeffe did in…

I am falling, falling out of my body, falling like midnight onto mice.

It is easy to look out on the Bowery and say, "There are the bums." Encountering one, however, even one who asks to "bum a quarter" or tells you he's "on the bum" the word "bum" slips away in one's mind...