1429 17 6
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...Rabidosa rabida- no spinner/
of webs but a quick and cunning
solitary hunter. Anxiety overwhelmed
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142900
|
Mayumi’s eyes twitched. Her head felt the pounding images and voices grafting themselves onto her mind.
|
142942
|
One evening I came home late from work to find my wife drinking white Zinfandel by the fireplace in the living room and reading Wallace Stevens poems out loud to the dog, curled at her feet.
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142944
|
From the rumple of pre-dawn Queens, sure South on 95, to almost Savannah by dark; still cold, but we’re full of what’s coming:
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142941
|
When I was young I bowed with such forgotten politeness, a young salesman, enchanting, in the silken trades. But I remembered the sun also when it was in Hades, which had forgotten to set, or to rise.
Peace, also, dangled there by the neck. Such a pre
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142933
|
1. we got off at the same stop. you approached me as i walked towards the stairs. i saw you looking at me, you said. i wasn't. i was looking at your magazine's cover. i don't remember what i said. i wanted to explore how to exist as myself however i wanted. i wanted to get…
|
14291711
|
I couldn’t parse the grammar of her body
nor decode the secret softness of her neck.
|
142956
|
I said: “Doesn’t he understand? People like me, geniuses—great, mad geniuses—are prone to failures because we do not accept the common notions of society? Doesn’t he understand? I’m not like the others.”
|
142920
|
"Don't stab me with that," says John.
|
142865
|
Everything was cool until she used the phrase, "five million dollar home."
|
142822
|
“What does it feel like to run, Thomas?” I yelled across the field. Thomas was so fast. I would never catch up to him. Even if I could run. He was so fast. …
|
142801
|
So, I say, what is the answer?
The answer to what?
You know. The song by Bob Dylan. The answer is blowing in the wind. You’re the wind. So what’s the answer?
|
142811
|
away into a gale then
sleet he gurgled with
eddie the pike till
he yearned and
twirled the oracle
of spider gloss
till he slipped
alone into the sky
to find her in a violet
rain they splat together
back to back on the rail
in the rumbling tumbl
|
142820
|
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
|
142861
|
The city had a way of going silent. Not a nervous silence, but a quiet silence. The sky was dark, yet everything was colored in a yellow hue cast by the arched streetlights. Buildings, parked vehicles, walls, pavement. Cars and scooters and ambulances and police cars…
|
142832
|
Friday night in Little Italy is a big night.
|
142854
|
—You know, Angelique, said Elaine Aster, dabbing her lips with a napkin, I’ve opened a new gallery in Paris.
|
142886
|
They clog the skimmer basket/
and fill the small Polaris bag.
|
142832
|
Little things that kept me going are no longer doing the trick, and venting to someone eventually drives them away. People around you know what is going on, but there is little they can do. They stay away at more than an arms length and you understand. Tr
|
142811
|
The clouds cried more than silver tears,
this time.
|
1428108
|
for the moment/
you think you know what you’re/
doing and do it.
|
142874
|
|
142897
|
she had a chipped tooth...
|
142821
|
In the blur she met Joseph. Joseph was the priest who lived in the attic of the church. She met him after she grew boobs and thighs that moved like dragonflies soaring above ponds.
|
142832
|
Where were you the night Katrina destroyed New Orleans? Oh, what a night... A week later, most of the city was still underwater, with hundreds or thousands of folks presumed dead, and tens of thousands…
|
142843
|
Before the paint spikes Coney Island to the wind, I walk home through the strum of a shield, colder than the one he left behind. For the hour I sprawl along the sidewalk in her laugh, crater's shadows for Wonder Wheel, he is midnight sun in The Last Waltz. Where the glow…
|
142884
|
Do you know this song, Julia? I happened upon it one evening and only just before meeting you, a month before meeting, a month before arriving?
|
142832
|
Once upon a time he'd thought her as cold a fish as her aristocratic husband
|
142841
|
“Behold!” cried the Lord, on a late September morning,
|
142731
|
No one takes me seriously because I am an idiot.
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