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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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127921
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Where are you going, boy who never was?
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127933
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Life's a beach? A bitch? Same thing.
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127920
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it’s more about how all those words look around each other. he’s more interested in the shape of things, than the reality....
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127932
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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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127976
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Whistler pounded a nuanced nail,
into our inferior foreheads.
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127901
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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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127921
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Metropolitan I. Atlantic harbinger of this our swaddled dawn: Mistaking moon's sea sweep for this the frown The sky's plain-countenanced creatures maytimes weep Upon the surface-sundown of our lawn, When gaily surfaced for…
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127921
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The elephant was breakable and I know that my grandmother held her breath every time I went near it, and I was repeatedly cautioned that it was not to be played with only admired. She taught me in her own way, respect for it. She may have commented on the green with a bit…
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127900
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We at Cahiers must continually ask–is le cinema de kung fu pimping really, truly—as bad as it wanna be?
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127900
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This tanka poem was inspired by news report that the Macy's of "Miracle on 34th Street" fame has a white Santa in front and a black Santa in back.
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127911
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There aren’t requirements, only expectations. I’m writing this, because, at the time it happened it seemed strange to me. People might think I’m writing because now, it makes sense, right? It doesn’t, I’ll tell you that much. I’ll also tell you what i
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127922
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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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127912
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Every time it happens,
I think of Amber Heard
and how hard you can be slapped
without a bruise forming.
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127900
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After dividing the sabliereand after the outliers roll away,disappear,or sit like a thrombus between two fingers,will there be enough in the dayfor you to watch the sun saginto its everyday tomb,to listen to the sagittal sighof a passing evening,to eat the last fruits of a…
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12791210
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Sometimes I had the time right, and sometimes the place; that day, they came together.
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127900
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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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127911
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A 20-footer up on skids
sky-blue paint beneath the bondo
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127900
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if i could i would leave/ my beating heart like flowers/ pumping blood upon your doorstep/ in gory testament/ to the way you make me feel.
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127921
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“You think it’s a self-castrating suicide note or a self-righteous freedom speech?”
“Probably just the ramblings of a madman, pissed he lost a company baseball game.”
“Fuckin-A, Pete! Double-murder suicide for a baseball game? Ain’t nobody that craz
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127931
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I awake to find a heavy chain shackled around my ankle. I try to remove it but cannot. The length of the chain runs through my apartment, sometimes coiling around itself, but eventually leading out my front door.
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127911
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“I love women. They’re like goddesses.”
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127973
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Not the torn magazine page, not the smell of ink, not the sweat of palm nor the froth of irish spring
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127942
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Frank left Michiko’s building and walked into Central Park.
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12791110
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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.
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127810
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Excuse me, can I now
ask to change my favorite childhood color
from green to yellow?
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127886
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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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127853
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Her name was Christine
and she was nailed to the cross
of their lust
and their greed,
and their vengeance
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127843
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No, no mother’s tenderness: she shows no sign of that … Do you know that she has them make their own bed? No, not the girl: the boys too! Yes, the boys. She humiliates them.
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127843
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