1030 7 3
|
|
103065
|
He stops smiling and only
says he loves me when prompted,
as if asking me to pass the salt
for his inner peace as it tastes too bland.
|
103063
|
i thirst always
for that poetic mouthful
|
103010
|
“Well” I say. “What do you think about the dilemma of a guy who’s tortured by a history of incest and bondage?”
“Depends” Says Al. “On who was cested and who was bonded.
|
103042
|
Gripping the sink, head bowed, I let the blood gather on the rim of my nose, pooling for a moment, before its fleeting journey towards the basin.
|
103041
|
In praise of the colorful flock with crowns
of teased cotton candy rising high above
Modular walls, stalled operating systems
staling coffee and pale corner offices
|
103000
|
I am the ocean. My soulless organs live in all of its motionless movement. I am the low. The high. The in between. I am nothing. Back and forth, I simply float along: existing, rising, and then falling into a life that can be considered one big decision left…
|
103021
|
these three remainders you, me and her are the legacy of simple math
and boolean logic, not so much
|
103000
|
The day was yesterday, November 11, 2010. I was home from work, and I pulled my car into the driveway. I stopped short of the garage to get out of the car and get the daily mail. Bills and unwanted coupons for places I didn't go and for items I don't…
|
103000
|
Licking my wounds.
That's what my mother calls it. I'm not really sure what that means or if it's true. Sure, losing your boyfriend, apartment and job in a matter of months can drive someone to do something impulsive. Something crazy. But I've always b
|
103033
|
“We have flown the air like birds and swum the sea like fishes, but have yet to learn the simple act of walking the earth like brothers.”
― Martin Luther King Jr.
|
103000
|
"What the hell does profligate mean?!" He shouted.
|
103000
|
They've put down roots under the dome. Want to push through the ceiling, blot out the sun. I have other plans.
|
103033
|
I’d like to thank no one.
But especially my first love in life
For putting me through hell
With all her lies and eternal sweetness
Toward all her many leading men
While maintaining she was virgin
Until she met me.
What was the point?
Ah, y
|
103053
|
"Do you kiss all of your models?"
|
103053
|
Night Flowers By Zofia Barisas The garden lies in deep darkness even in the noon of blazing day. A steamy pond lies still in wait for uncertain footsteps. Here aquatic green spiders, big as frogs, spin iridescent webs from leaf to leaf. Gigantic, ancient trees stand…
|
103043
|
It starts on the Fallopian Speedway:
|
103064
|
The rocks were pillows around her shorn head, the crimson stream running from her ears the only sign she had not chosen to lay down on them. Behind us, the rockface stood stoic; below us, the water lapped our feet.She held my hand in hers, giving me succor as I…
|
103000
|
Billy liked dinosaurs. He played dinosaurs, collected dinosaur toys, drew pictures of dinosaurs, great shambling beasts of tooth and claw, whose passing shook the jungles and whose drooling jaws devoured figures not unlike his sisters. For birthdays and
|
102910
|
The doctors said, when she was born, that the gills would eventually fade away on their own. Nothing to fear, they said; no more unusual than the rare child born with a tail, or a dense pelt of fur, or a single sharp tooth jutting from its new pink gums.
|
102951
|
a man sees salamander bands / a-cracklin on the scree
|
1029128
|
His eyes are closed yet restless, as if too many thoughts loop beneath the lids.
|
102991
|
Carl and Dolly were actors. Dolly was offered the lead in a porno film, but she turned it down.
|
102912
|
I slept and it was pleasant. Then there was the kiss, and it was hot. Later you turned away, and all was November chill. Now there are touches, caresses and shouts, Marvelous nights flavored with favors bestowed, and blackened days,…
|
102942
|
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.
|
102944
|
This is your mystery, your story Full of beauty and all-encompassing loveA brushstroke washes the canvas cleanYou start over with a new directionDreaming of me as you paint your wordsWriting just like Keats, Shelley and BrontëAbout sorrow, rain and the wheels of passion
|
102932
|
Bubbling from the hairline cracks in the glossy pavement of the new Einkaufszentrum in the town of Dachau oozes a mysterious thick red substance. Not blood, the mayor insists despite chemical analyses. And keep it quiet. Just…
|
102960
|
Technique, Technique, Technique, Technique, TECHNIQUE!
|
10291612
|
I am experience and information//
at a small but irredeemable remove.
|
10291811
|
My poetry is bare, showing its pink and purplish imperfections and its injuries. I buy it a dress to hide its bruises, to ornate it a little, to make it smile. On its rather ugly and mishaped body, the dress looks comical, ridiculous, clumsy, like a bird with a broken wing.…
|
