1273 2 1
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You sleep. The time is soft and slow.
Your dreams are covered with the snow.
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127300
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Picnicking In Mt. Misery Cemetery We breathe the damp shade, plum trees shining in a woodland where there are few wrong things I want to remember-- the steel fence of the power company blazing under an arc light is one. On this day of ripening fruit …
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127232
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"Don't pull too hard," warned Father. "You might sever it from the body, spraying blood into your eyes."
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127233
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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
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127222
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They watch her, scald her skin with hot eyes whose stares run up and down her body like lice.
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12721210
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Sometimes I had the time right, and sometimes the place; that day, they came together.
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127233
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As she slunk to her topless Mercedes
sparkling curbside, wax job hand rubbed
in Hamburg, testosterone heads turned
wishing similar treatment.
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127242
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I had a friend in high school that wore a size G bra and we would take guesses on how much her tits weighed in comparison to the rest of her body. I spent a night wondering how she kept upright.
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127211
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A 20-footer up on skids
sky-blue paint beneath the bondo
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127241
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IV. From Hoover Dam The intent of passive presence wreathes an endless ring, Invisible, beyond all thoughts and change to sickness. This hour beats sibylline as vacancy, breathing Through mouths that do not taste their nothingness. I do not know where you are;…
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127211
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She never leaves her desk, but food appears like magic.
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127221
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son a superfly/alligator shoe clad/networking man/working a beeper and flip phone/twisting blueberry spliffs/on ma's porch
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127211
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“And what kind of man would prefer all these dusty old books to my physical form? Who would memorize archaic incantations, when he could be whispering in my ear? Why search for the ancient splendors of metaphor, when one could be searching for the ...
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127201
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It loomed -- unavoidable.
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127251
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Now that Spring has sprung I am reminded about the day a former neighbour complained about my squirrel collection. I love to feed the black squirrels that gather in my yard and she became convinced I had trained several ninja squirrels to enter her garden
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127266
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I polished his shoes to an avid black; sewed buttons backand mended torn silk and cotton.His clothing was my busy work. Needle, thread, stitch, and iron,I was his apothecary of linens.Blood, wine, soup, vomit --these I cleaned too, until all theircolor and scent…
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127243
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...she had marked the stars with a blue pen, connected the dots to make Andromeda, Cassiopeia, told us of the gods behind the stars...
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127142
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No freebies. You want to read it, you have to read all of it.
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127133
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127195
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There were ten thousand photographs buried in the bottom of the jar
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127101
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Ben followed Jean-Claude’s white Fiat. Every time Ben shifted gears, he was reminded of Arris’s punch.
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1271116
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Heel to toe, our bunions
are our ingrown medals.
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1271188
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he who laughs last is probably a dumbass fuck
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1271158
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Maybe it takes as much fortitude
To forget
As it does
To remember.
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127133
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Today, I am almost entirely self-coincidental, though I still feel a lag lurking somewhere.
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127144
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"Shouldn’t I be able to easily get my arms around nothing?”
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127100
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I know I used to say I’d rather walk on the moon with my own rapacity. And you can easily say things like that, given the luxuriance of youth. But it was a lie, if you want to know the truth. That is only so much hot balloon air, puffed up in the chest,
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127121
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Here and there a few bits of beauty, with the highest respect, reverence, erect with pride. Almost twice a thousand dawns, ten thousand in intimacy, the breasts, the nipples, means of the world to nourish itself, by the intimate bay.
It's almost pun
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127185
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Have you measured the cups, the conveyors' yield? Do you know the span? I am the LORD your God, she murmured.
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127100
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You ask yourself, how can you be living but dead? It is not possible. Yet it can be and it can be slightly reversible, but realistically, for most people, it is not. Living but dead, is walking in the world of the in-between. Standing with one foot on the
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