1407 5 3
|
Marie and Mary lay side by side, partitioned by flimsy blue vinyl on cheap plastic rollers.
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140712
|
“Help us, help us,” the children are saying. “They’ll come back. Help us. They bite.”
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140784
|
In the moment
I crinkle the aluminum foil,
The sandwich now a deeper
Part of me
|
140731
|
She seizes my hand. I resist just enough to sense her strength.
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140700
|
Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh; the rhythmic thrust of Mezereon’s wings…Th-Bumm, th-bumm, th-bumm; the drumming of his heart…Hooou, hooou, hooou; the exhalations of his breath…
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140722
|
For Takama this created the second conundrum of the day. One even bigger than the first. When he’d first learnt that sensei and he would be boarding a flight together for a series of demonstrations in Geneva, little had he expected he would be locked up i
|
140733
|
we ran that afternoon/across Bayshore lanes/into green blooming fields, beyond all those
|
140700
|
The other night at work, some kid was in for swallowing a snail's shell. He was nine and, according to the computer, did not have cognitive insufficiency. That last bit was probably put there to make us all not feel guilty about laughing at him.
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140742
|
there is a tunnel / between your skin and the ground / for kisses to crawl
|
140742
|
Frank was happy to leave the art show and take the train back to SoHo.
|
140794
|
As a child I drowned myself in the pages of books, and as a writer I prefer to be left alone with my imagination.
|
140711
|
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
|
140743
|
IV. Upwards, into the white eye rising, There is will, to stay, yet stays no will to be. Come,…
|
1407139
|
There's a witch in Laurel Canyon.She made Wes a promise.Her bungalow smelled like Parliaments. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive oil. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive, and a freshly opened pack of Red Vines. Wes could have curled up into a ball and fallen asleep on her…
|
140711
|
Hands and fingers feeling down
Cross the boundaries I laid
|
140722
|
I’m just your ordinary poem,
|
140722
|
She was gazing down at her two hands holding the peach seersucker top, but without blinking she saw four hands—ahh, idiot, the mirror! But in the next moment no, it was four hands . . .
|
140700
|
What do you mean dope in the front seat. I always keep my dope in the trunk. I mean hey, children DO steal.
|
140755
|
Like when she said the word 'but', it came out ‘bet’.
|
140740
|
But that last night in Europe, getting ready to fly out of Amsterdam back to the States, I heard this Phil Collins song, “In the Air Tonight,” which expressed some of the turmoil and confusion and whole-life hysteria I was feeling inside. Waves of fru
|
140751
|
The roses ask for you when I smell them
They seem to remember your touch more than
others. They can’t bear it when you’re gone
and wonder when you’ll be returning
I am beginning to do the same
I no longer go outdoors to be with them
|
140653
|
Your face seems faint against the violet glades; The long winds echo once, then fail to start. Some wounding scent has stripped my hopes apart That dwelled to scent you. From the cavalcades The leaves make, bare at times since eve's sting fades To…
|
140600
|
A sort of invocation of the open sky, in contradistinction to the dark of the Earth whence came the specimens, a figurative marriage of the literal darkness of exploration and the figurative light of knowledge.
|
140664
|
i am two / one part me / another part them
|
1406103
|
They're haunting me with every spotting. They're convincing me they'd be the unexpected blessing. They're confusing me when I look at my already-children, taking on the shape of this one's face, that one's gestures. We've been…
|
140620
|
What I remember about my grandfather were his fart jokes. When he wasn't telling us kids about how young David defeated the mighty Goliath or how Saul the pharisee humbled himself to become Paul the Apostle, he was telling us about the baby burp that begg
|
140611
|
A 20-footer up on skids
sky-blue paint beneath the bondo
|
1406118
|
In time's embroidery, the human storyis a short stretch of a short strand within the thread of half a knot-and that stretch of strand's defective. What will mourn us when we're gone?Not the plants which live so lightly on the earth.Not the scorpions and not the ants.Perhaps…
|
140611
|
I hand one of them the octopus and run out of the room.
|
140674
|
Jim Morrison moved
ever so slightly
in the cold of his grave
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