1195 5 2
|
It's morning, and the cold black hull of branches sets my resting pier, Amid this drizzle, underneath the poignant pain of birches, wrecked By floods of midyear grieving; wraithlike, Dawn's been becked To paint in shafts of faded rose that shades the fen…
|
1195 3 1
|
the vigilance that informs a parent's every hour had momentarily lapsed
|
1195 8 6
|
The drop is like a hangman's drop, an executioner's, but farther and longer, perhaps three or four seconds.
|
1195 2 1
|
She continued to cooperate with a city council agenda dominated by globalized privatization
|
1195 0 0
|
My husband says you don’t have to tip the owner of an establishment, just employees. I never heard of that rule, and suspect it is another example of him just being cheap.
|
1195 4 4
|
Feelin’, feelin’ good, down-fallin’ down/rain, rain, rain came today,/wet alfresco alchemy
|
1194 11 6
|
Observe the withered/
head atop the pole.
|
1194 2 1
|
The elephant was breakable and I know that my grandmother held her breath every time I went near it, and I was repeatedly cautioned that it was not to be played with only admired. She taught me in her own way, respect for it. She may have commented on the green with a bit…
|
1194 8 6
|
They clog the skimmer basket/
and fill the small Polaris bag.
|
1194 10 8
|
for the moment/
you think you know what you’re/
doing and do it.
|
1194 3 2
|
I’m glad they put the wall up. When it gets a little humid around here, I can smell those damn people.
|
1194 4 1
|
You can't always be everything
you were expected to be
|
1194 3 3
|
The idea of an infinite textual universe occurs in many places in the works of Jorge Luis Borges. The contexts and permutations of language, which others had held to be perhaps infinite (allowing themselves to use such an imprecise term), that…
|
1194 6 3
|
On the phone I asked my mother how she was doing.
“I’m getting old,” she said. “Going slow. But getting there. I’m ninety-four!”
My mother was always 94, when she was really 93. I remember she was 93 right after she turned 92. And 92
|
1194 1 1
|
On his way to his first fishing expedition in the Bay Area, the man remembered the rustle and shimmer of the willows by the muddied Jemez River in New Mexico, cold beer, the clean camaraderie of childhood friends. He walked along a path choked with greenery to the San Pablo…
|
1194 2 2
|
Quickly enough, it became clear, however, that this was really all about offers you could not refuse, allegations you could not contest, arrests you could not understand and acts you would not survive.
|
1194 2 2
|
Sky: Snows, turns dark. Street: Freezes. Remains on a hill. Traffic: None on this block. Two: Did I miss the bus? One: You either missed it, or it didn't come. Two: Hasn't come. One: One or the other. Which one? Two: I don't know; I asked you. One: I meant which…
|
1194 3 1
|
With spring rain
And greening buds
|
1194 2 1
|
“What the fuck!” Duke muttered, amazed at what he was seeing in the darkened store. A thin curtain of smoke was rising from under the baseboard like an inverted waterfall. It stretched the entire length of the left wall. Holy shit, the joint's on fire! I…
|
1194 5 3
|
I don't look like other poets. /
People hardly believe it when I say /
"I write poetry, sometimes. /
During lonely evenings."
|
1193 9 4
|
He wasn't sure if I was joking.
|
1193 5 1
|
a man sees salamander bands / a-cracklin on the scree
|
1193 10 5
|
Did they do it in pairs or all at the same time?
|
1193 10 6
|
The screen door slowly opened. I was expecting the second / coming of perfection.
|
1193 2 1
|
the little crummy salon that churned out little fat women with pinked curly hair
|
1193 1 1
|
On a cold November afternoon I stood in the foyer of Sampson and Sons funeral home and paced silently back and forth across the purple carpet. They have that deep pile and rich color of carpeting that you only really see in a small town…
|
1193 2 0
|
I woke up pissed off—like that feeling you get when you take a long nap in the afternoon. Except instead of being on a couch or a bed, I was trapped in a mashed-up Honda on I-75.
|
1193 9 6
|
Plans were all set. We were leaving this town. We'd been creeping around long enough and Marla wanted nothing more than to get out and away from the shallow, old bastard she married. “Fuck his mansion and fuck his country club”, she said. We both agreed that he…
|
1193 5 5
|
Perdita's confusing profusion of parts makes it impossible to know which way up she goes.She flutters beneath the camera's shuttered stare, …
|
1193 6 4
|
in the pink distance / a boy in a corduroy shirt / sits before an upended electrical spindle / and drinks a vodka gimlet
|