1281 4 2
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Story of my life: I was ready for a nightcap and she was just beginning her night.
|
128141
|
In the morning I listen through an ear-trumpet
|
128076
|
Whistler pounded a nuanced nail,
into our inferior foreheads.
|
128021
|
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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128053
|
She is a manifold of temporal flows.
|
128053
|
Her name was Christine
and she was nailed to the cross
of their lust
and their greed,
and their vengeance
|
128043
|
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.
|
128000
|
We at Cahiers must continually ask–is le cinema de kung fu pimping really, truly—as bad as it wanna be?
|
128000
|
It’s just another
Day where I feel tired, but I
Don’t know why it’s so.
|
128012
|
Every time it happens,
I think of Amber Heard
and how hard you can be slapped
without a bruise forming.
|
128021
|
Ben exited the uptown Broadway Local at 103rd and oriented himself.
|
128022
|
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
|
128000
|
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
|
128033
|
Once in a while I have the time of my life /
in this god-forsaken Earth:
|
128076
|
We exist to facilitate/
successful conclusions of hopeless lives.
|
128011
|
She never leaves her desk, but food appears like magic.
|
128021
|
“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
|
128051
|
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
|
128021
|
So you printed your resume on this coffee cup - that’s something
- I wanted you guys to think about me every morning - while you were getting your coffee
|
128000
|
the first night we visited/ i stepped on a splinter/ while walking to the car/ and half-limped back,/ hiding a wince.
|
128043
|
Today, the buxom neighbor carrying blintzes
Egged me not to care about
What’s not flat. She forgot
To bend, clanging together
Some fronts and sides.
|
128033
|
WAITING FOR HURRICANE DENNIS, FLORIDA 2005 With soft eyes, she quizzed, shivered, said: “Where's Dad? Where's Ric? Will you leave me here alone? Are you all going to leave? Where's Peter? Do you feel all right? We're…
|
12801110
|
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.
|
128000
|
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 …
|
128043
|
...she had marked the stars with a blue pen, connected the dots to make Andromeda, Cassiopeia, told us of the gods behind the stars...
|
127921
|
Where are you going, boy who never was?
|
127995
|
There were ten thousand photographs buried in the bottom of the jar
|
127986
|
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
|
127901
|
Ben followed Jean-Claude’s white Fiat. Every time Ben shifted gears, he was reminded of Arris’s punch.
|
127900
|
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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