1378 5 2
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i once knew a place where lost souls gathered. there were various itinerants and the ill-intentioned, the malevolent and hard-hearted. but there were also many good ones and that was a type of charm upon the area. good souls can be lost also, and this is what some…
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137897
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I see them walking. They pass right by my house. If I’m outside, I sit down on our porch and watch the parade. Sometimes I watch them out of a front window.
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137886
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My table offers up the gutted calf/
with carrots and potatoes yanked /
alive and whole
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137833
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I'm a heathen in the church of the absolute.
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137786
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She cut me adrift
On an iceberg of words
And words melt
As you know
Looks like we may have
Gone out on the limb
A little too far without
A toe-hold on Reality
Doesn’t it?
But I saw the headlines:
Cows Bound for Slaughterhouse Make
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137743
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"...she became aware of
her cold saliva
dripping slowly over her bare
arm muscle,..."
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137700
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Robbie took me out to Fox River on his father's ski boat one day, as he often did — but this time it was my eighteenth birthday. That was when he opened up his robe and showed me all there was to show of himself, begging me to make love to him, saying h
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137764
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Beware of shouting Dress Barn, Dress Barn! when having an orgasm
And don’t tell him you were seeing Starbucks when you came
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137750
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An expanse of trees, grass, scrub, heathers, sky, space. A grey horse, the type her gran would have placed a bet on, approaches. "Don't like flies?" he asks. He holds her gaze, walks closer. Seventeen black flies crawl over the right side of his head. "What…
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137711
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They run nonstop for weeks. Between traffic stalled cars. Down forgotten subways tunnels drilled long ago in the cold earth. Past burning sugarcane fields.
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137700
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she flips
you a smile and a white plastic menu, and all the blood in
your head, and upper body rushes to your crouch, and god-all-
mighty, space aliens from the planet Vanna White could be landing in their unnumbered hoards in the parking lot, and all
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137723
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I will admit it. // I cannot write poetry / to save my life—
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137753
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only thoughts lost in lonely trails of red
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137784
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Years ago when the smart of it was as nippy as this one.
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137711
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It was a mildly windy day of the working week in the financial district of the city—the bright morning sun was out—when a security guard was called to the fifteenth floor to deal with a disruption.
“This way.”
Someone pointed to a desk. At the desk
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1377119
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I lay on a table in a cold room in one of those little blue gowns that open in back.
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137742
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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!”
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137765
|
I heard them praying to some god
none of us had ever heard of.
I'm glad I went to the funeral
and still have the yellow rose that I
did not throw into his grave.
At some point
you have to stop nibbling
from the moldy cake.
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137742
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She sat in a tall chair and there was only one time in the interview that she took her sunglasses off. She didn't really take them off, but just pulled them down for an instant with thumb and forefinger in order to look out at something going past the window. They said…
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13771410
|
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137700
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A woman confronts her suspicions about her husband's fidelity.
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137664
|
The Traignarry Light Preservation Society meets monthly, and welcomes visitors.
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137650
|
I noticed his pistol before his pissbag and I knew then that failure not only had a face but a balding head, too
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137654
|
Is there a homunculus in my brain guiding everything like the pilot of an airliner?
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137644
|
There are moments in life where it's like you're driving late at night and you should be on your way home but really you're just rolling along aimlessly through the city streets when suddenly you turn a corner and realize the road is open and empty for miles to come, a…
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137642
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Girolamo Dente was nodding off in his studio at Découvrir Art when he heard the alarm.
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137600
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[WE'LL LET *YOU* BE THE JUDGE!]
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137620
|
If you had gotten pregnant our last time, in 1967 (when you lied and told me “I guess I’m finally over you,”) then our son could have been that man you saw with the drooping moustache and his coattails flying in the lobby of the building in Louisville,
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137600
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I made a man of men. He made a man of me, the way all men are finished, in tragedy and sorrow. Together, we make a story, for other men, brothers and sisters.
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137632
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As far as I can tell, all he eats is wedges of cake
from the plate on top of his blanket as he
lies there in bed, smoking cigarettes and
staring up at the painting of a pile of shoes.
Or else this is a real pile of shoes
building up beside the
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