1191 11 3
|
I've written of this and I've written of that, Have scriven as you have it either that or this: But if you strive against the wind when you decide to piss, They say, you'll find up firing against your hat- Like some old Brother who was broiled when…
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119110
|
Touch these words with your mind. They will create an elephant with an unidentifiable itch.
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119133
|
Your mother was married to a Minotaur
|
119110
|
Snap!
Dylan’s arms flung forward as the rod bent toward the ocean. “Holy God! What did I snag?
|
119196
|
Birds fly and people
hurry in the wind and rain like it's a matter
of pity.
|
11911413
|
Frenchie hustled waffle irons.
|
119165
|
pulled the
wool off my head
found i
was almost dead
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119132
|
The trash is full. Again. I open the bathroom trash—because the diaper genie is stuffed—but there’s no room. I try the kitchen next. The lid swings open, catapulting carrot shavings onto the floor. I lay the diaper on the counter for later.
|
119186
|
One by one the hundred matte black drones hummed awake. The buzz was loud on the tiny airfield but died out soon among the waving amber heads of Kansas wheat that surrounded the unsigned base.
|
119143
|
|
119155
|
If we go back in time
We are living in tents
If we go back in time
We are living in caves
We are fighting over rivers
We are fighting over fields
Near the soft edges of slime
If we go back in time
Nothing would have us
And we had t
|
1191116
|
Died is forever. Passed away/
Is ambiguous. Dead isn’t/
polite.
|
119143
|
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…
|
119132
|
she sees that no one has considered her needsshe feels left out, and so she strikes outon the offensive, nostrils flaringpoints her finger and makes her caseshe has been wronged, justified in her angershe will not back downthe accused one is hurtstrikes back with her own…
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119000
|
I don't like listening to the radio anymore. Nothing is clearer than a live voice with something to say. Give me a big field with no one around but the birds and I will send the bees away from me. I will deny all bugs to buzz.
|
119053
|
He is sitting in the infinite rain
and the water is making him some infinite silhouette
|
119054
|
But there it was, amid the “junk” set to be thrown out with the rest of his childhood, opened accidentally to the page of his Indiana Jones Action Journal about his winter formal when he was sixteen.
|
119023
|
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:…
|
119000
|
He then spent his walk home to his single apartment spitting up various textures of red, combinations of cherry and blood mostly.
|
119055
|
|
119075
|
you can't always get what you want
|
119000
|
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.
|
119031
|
This is a very impromptu piece written at two in the morning based on a prompt from Meg Pokrass, who insisted the following words be used: fussyhairybloomingslipperyflutterdamppaleweedsyanking “Maxfuss” was his password, which was appropriate,…
|
119055
|
philanthropy corrugated with a smirk / printed aside every cardboard box and room / every cardboard house with every cardboard door.
|
119074
|
|
119042
|
I visited his loft last week. There were many exciting new pictures. Francesco was your main money earner before, now he will be again.
|
118922
|
I am a human resource, batteries not included
|
118921
|
He keeps re-reading the menu but knows already how it ends..
|
118910
|
At six a.m. he was awakened by the alarm on the watch, and found he could not remove it from his wrist, though he was able to turn it off. Of course, she was gone, but had left a little patchouli-scented note on a pillow.
|
118944
|
Robert Frost told me that life goes on, but that’s just not good enough for me and for God’s sake it shouldn’t be good enough for you either, should it?
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