1458 3 1
|
I suppose I'd rather Tomorrow be heroic.
It would make the passing of time less villainous.
|
145843
|
IV. Upwards, into the white eye rising, There is will, to stay, yet stays no will to be. Come,…
|
145877
|
These clouds are what I havewith me. Their language is minebut it is drying today aswe speak. I catch the darkeningsparks, but that's not to beyour concern. I am sure youshall go on. What I wantis to deliver your song. Idoubt it is for anybody else.Clouds are good at…
|
14581210
|
|
145800
|
My Mother always said that a storm was death knocking.
|
145833
|
His granddaughter, Ivy, sat on his knee looking at an old photo album she found under the couch during one of her afternoon explorations. She made him wipe off the dust and cobwebs before he took her through all the pictures, per normal protocol. The albu
|
145800
|
Darling Valentine’s pale legs shone in the dark, a beacon for the car driving without headlights along a tree-lined row of brownstones.
|
145822
|
He sees the dogs through the window, his babies, sleeping on opposite ends of the couch. His girl, lying supine, hind legs spread, grotesquely, almost comically, as far as they can without being flush with the cushion. His boy, Cosmo, face down, the power…
|
145772
|
They left the breath of their souls
upon the lips of others
and jumped in with all abandon
They felt the winds on their skin
as the heart flew by them
on its way into the lost nature of time
This time they flee the country of the soul
|
1457115
|
I haven't been here in a while!
|
145766
|
Winter will be cold this year, you tell her. You read that. She says she is with child with her new husband. You tell her she's forty-five, it is selfish. The baby. It's fine. You demand to be at her tests. Evan may let you, she says. He's a doll. She would never use that…
|
145754
|
Along with Bad Bunny
comes the reckless dancing
the ambulance chases
and the long, drawn-on faces
|
145753
|
He saw places that he hadn't thought existed. He found his analog from 17,000 years ago praying inside of a white pyramid in Kathmandu, and saw how the fireballs being catapulted through the air outside were stopped in midair by a beam coming from the top
|
145700
|
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.
|
145711
|
“I love women. They’re like goddesses.”
|
145796
|
I saw Vincent one day, sitting at a café table that was situated right next to the quays of the Seine, with another artist by the name of Bernard. Vincent had his back to me, and he was leaning forward in his usual hyper-excitement, gesturing wildly
|
145797
|
Thus, more people can drown//
and leave their bones
|
145763
|
You may want to pretend to leave once or twice, peeking in through a window from a darkened room, to see how they interact. Never leave a new poet unattended with the pack until you’ve determined that the new arrival has learned to fit in with the other w
|
145754
|
Even mockingbirds are scarce;
|
145721
|
My cousin and I walked around the village at night. It was beginning to rain, but we walked on. She had a jacket. I didn’t because of course. She said: “Sometimes I just want to know if he’s settling or he’s really in love with me.”
|
145610
|
|
145641
|
Camilla and I watched a movie, then we were the movie. A man wandered in a decrepit house, or in a dream of a house, which had wallpaper hanging like shredded flesh and little mounds of filth and a madwoman with a butcher knife creeping from room to room with fear or…
|
145653
|
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…
|
1456116
|
Unless they leave you comatose,/
it’s the disasters you remember.
|
145621
|
|
145600
|
John Davies paces nervously around an empty parking lot...
|
145675
|
|
145664
|
Further down a small group of men lolled near a doorway.
|
145696
|
Wind was a sorry excuse for force
|
145611
|
I hand one of them the octopus and run out of the room.
|
