100082
|
This is the poem you leave behind that you die in the middle of.
|
100011
|
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…
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100074
|
I’d look for a fork and quickly stab a piece of it and bite into it, feeling good about the finality of things.
|
100064
|
The voice is back! That voice, like milk and honey, like mother, like the school nurse who bandaged my scraped knee.
|
100022
|
...she did wish she lived somewhere in Ancient Rome, and from one of those seven hills, perhaps during sunset, she would resolve to roll down and meet the flaming orb just as it descended so she would dissolve into embers and ash...
|
100021
|
Ben was cheered to see Monique in good spirits again.
|
100032
|
Hope is the thing playing checkers
|
1000101
|
I saw a woman / at the bar tonight
|
100042
|
Story of my life: I was ready for a nightcap and she was just beginning her night.
|
10001110
|
Back then we used to dance slowly to Sam Cooke's “You Send Me” on your parquet floors, whispering about planting our vegetable garden, planning to seed the lawn with centipede grass, promising to count all the red cars that came down the street.
|
100065
|
I can do the hot coals, no problem.
Or, your love, eyes closed.
Or your sneer, spank,
suffering, resentment, rejection.
|
99966
|
I'd like to grow you a new flower. I thinkmaybe I just will. Right now. Here's as good a place as any. Well you'll probably never get to see it, but it will be there just the same and it will be all yours. Kind of like these poems that I make if…
|
9991612
|
ARROGANT MAGNOLIA, the first to open all, poised ten feet above our fuss. …
|
99933
|
Violet goes with her mother to the home, delivering cookies to old folks. She's getting to hate how she goes along with everything her mother asks. Some of her friends are rebelling already, and Violet feels something under her skin. It's still just a dark shape, lurking…
|
99911
|
Like a distant memory of past expectations
I wander through past journeys, delineations
chew on the fresh air like a discontented Wordsworth
now free, free to roam where I will..
|
99921
|
The officer’s eggs and bacon rested on the asphalt amid shattered ceramic and boot heels.
|
99922
|
I have become a prisoner of my own fractured mind/ A paranoid weirdo behind the horizontal bars of window shades
|
99975
|
I dreamt, said the Donkey, of an apricot. An apricot the size of a heart. …
|
99933
|
I nearly burst out laughing when I heard myself telling him in my accented English that she’d confided in me that she was preparing to sacrifice herself as part of an elaborate snuff film produced by a band of psychotic artists hell-bent on making up for
|
99922
|
The boy buckled in and told his mom, “No mommy, I can do it myself”
|
99944
|
Once there was a real honest to God holy spirit out there that was a gift of kindness for everyone, unfortunately given to all the wrong people, or the wrong people simply stole it. Either way the wrong people are still the same ones among us now who so…
|
99954
|
Writing opens doors to perception. For example, the glockenspiel smells of gardenias, but the catwalk is opening a can of Franklin stove. It emits fumes of fairyland and olive. And in the green and pleasant country of Scotland and England, vintage trains go…
|
999176
|
...Rabidosa rabida- no spinner/
of webs but a quick and cunning
solitary hunter. Anxiety overwhelmed
|
99941
|
You can't always be everything
you were expected to be
|
99965
|
The one at
dusk is not the one you met this morning.
That one's gone like a head in the window.
|
99955
|
The blind can be a little bit
Angry now and then
Trying to be independent
They don’t want or need your help
Usually. They’re a little like bees
You have to learn to leave them alone
But I remember one day when I
Guided the fingers of Bli
|
99979
|
Used to be I'd keep busy. Dreadful the time I spend sitting, standing, staring. I lose track, now. I believe it's because he died. It gets hold of me. I'll see him half on half off his bed, a plaid blanket angled over his back and legs, held…
|
99900
|
I considered my choices, then asked the question that has brought my wife so much pain over the years. "Which is cheaper?"
|
99920
|
How many years has he dreamed he would be home again?
|
99962
|
Of course, no one can control what goes on in an elevator.
|