1136 4 2
|
They sit across from each other and she smiles as if they were in a normal place.
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113641
|
Dear Friend:
As a visitor to Wonderland in the past, you are truly among our most treasured friends. It is the enthusiasm for whimsy such as yours that spurs us to continue to provide perplexing chaos for which we are so widely esteemed, the better to
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113641
|
This poem first appeared in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, founded by Walt Whitman in 1838.
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113621
|
The muezzin calls the faithful,
his voice soaring over the rooftops,
over the trees and the brooks,
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1136103
|
They're haunting me with every spotting. They're convincing me they'd be the unexpected blessing. They're confusing me when I look at my already-children, taking on the shape of this one's face, that one's gestures. We've been…
|
113665
|
The one at
dusk is not the one you met this morning.
That one's gone like a head in the window.
|
113696
|
Birds fly and people
hurry in the wind and rain like it's a matter
of pity.
|
113600
|
His left hand is still clutching the blue Bic lighter in his pocket, rubbing it slowly but firmly. Anticipation is building, filling Theodore up like a combustible gas inside of a too-small container.
|
1136129
|
...it was moving toward me from an oblique angle somewhere behind, steadily, relentlessly.
|
1136114
|
I thought of you todayand what you put me throughthe time you saidwe couldn't rest.
|
113634
|
Ascent/Assent
Together the horizon/
Catechism of love
|
113600
|
Famus Peepul Ellen and her boy, Larson, were on the second floor of The Monsters restaurant, searching for the fortuneteller. Larson had decided her signature was a necessary addition to his autograph book. He hadn't asked for her autograph…
|
113698
|
We can’t just bomb Berlin or Dresden,/
Nagasaki or Hanoi, to make things safe
|
113644
|
Feelin’, feelin’ good, down-fallin’ down/rain, rain, rain came today,/wet alfresco alchemy
|
113521
|
I look as sympathetic as I can, under the circumstance, which is entirely unsympathetic.
|
113531
|
Far away or up close, she appeared just like anyone else, a young woman with pale arms and legs and a milk-face unblemished by a single freckle or pimple or blotch. Only when she turned a certain way did it become clear that what rested atop her muscle an
|
113586
|
It must be nice not to have to worry About certain things because those things are not yet In your circle, or in your circus, of life. I don't begrudge you for being almost grown in A much different, sweeter place and time. I'm thrilled By…
|
1135109
|
Your tunamelt cadence / Sank me to ocean floors
|
113510
|
Another noise, softer than the first: swish, thud. You are still. The house is very loud tonight.
|
113563
|
Written within five minutes, being a parody of the artless vacuity of observational 'poetry'(By Tedward Weeney and Seamus Spews) The large wind in the treetop tells the blackbird its own voice. The yellow grainyard resounds to the clodding of my farmer's…
|
113597
|
Savvy as a nine-year-old playing poker with high rollers in Las Vegas, that was Paulie. She'd finally thrown Dick Weasel out the night before, but that morning Diana'd shot down their plan of sharing the house in a “man-free”…
|
113531
|
They’re coming now. Thousands of them. Black wings, antennas, spindly legs.
|
113524
|
What
I learned/one summer/in the North East/Thessaloniki heat was. . . .
|
113522
|
Through void decks of apartment blocks,
Over roads on overhead bridges,
Down small streets on concrete pavements.
|
113552
|
The increasingly furrowed lines on his forehead made her stomach clench.
|
113522
|
a disease/ like junk-sickness/ like a jealous lover/ who discovers competition/ and meets it with a blade/ in your heart,/ not hers.
|
113543
|
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…
|
113542
|
It was Wednesday, the papers had a food section that day, so the gap-toothed news hawker at the mouth of Winter Street would yell out “Foozection! Foozection!”
|
113531
|
It was the first warm day of a late-arriving spring. Ben was sitting in his divorce lawyer’s office on Maiden Lane in lower Manhattan.
|
113584
|
When the poet loves,/ I said, quoting the poet,/ he loves himself.
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