1434 4 4
|
|
143422
|
I gave my trumpet case to a girl named Sophie; she liked the velvet inside.She still played with dolls;they would live there,in the dark away from the world.Safe. I was a terrible trumpeter;i missed the high notes in band, squawked like a chicken.I strapped the trumpeton my…
|
1434109
|
It wasn't the same as taking a course with Ginsberg. Everyone knew Ginsberg. Nick Cave, too, everyone knew him. Waiting lists were full months in advance for those classes, everyone sent in resumes and writing samples, praying, begging to be included. Lish was just an…
|
143443
|
I'm writing our initials in black sharpie on the tunnel wall. There's already people who have come before me, hundreds of pairs of Qs and As and hearts in the middle, through a small hole in the brick I can hear the French accents, spinning through, a reminder that I am…
|
1434168
|
The Muse//has used/ me up
|
143443
|
You watch with frigid eyes, as their soggy woolens squelch dark mud, even smiling a little as they make croaking frog-lure noises. You know eventually a toad or two would land in the Frogger. You like the word Frogger.
|
143321
|
“He didn’t finish ‘The Witchcraft of Salem Village,’” Scooter says, tattling on his little brother. I’m projecting him to be a first-round draft pick by the National Security Agency in about ten years.
|
143350
|
I know from the experience of too many odd sideways glances that folks are seldom interested in my brand of observation. No one else seems to wonder how many commas there are in the library or how many other people own that exact shirt.
|
143320
|
Her eyes still fixed on him as if to whisper her concerns of fidelity.
|
143310
|
I AM A FIRE SWAN!
THIS IS MY QUILT!
YOU ARE MY QUEEN!
|
143354
|
He stopped believing in God when he learned how balls worked. Spermatocytes turned into spermatids and spermatids turned into spermatozoa, the transition taking place in tiny loop de loops called the seminiferous tubules which contain at least three…
|
143363
|
Written within five minutes, being a parody of the artless vacuity of observational 'poetry'(By Tedward Weeney and Seamus Spews) The large wind in the treetop tells the blackbird its own voice. The yellow grainyard resounds to the clodding of my farmer's…
|
14332110
|
--"Look at us," she murmurs. "Tristan and Isolde without the adultery."
--"Well, you can't have everything."
--"No? I heard otherwise."
|
143342
|
The air smells like dream, like farm shit, like the salty stalling of evolution.
|
14331612
|
I am experience and information//
at a small but irredeemable remove.
|
143376
|
One/
can’t always trust the eye and ear//
in such matters but what can one do?/
Mistakes will be made.
|
143377
|
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…
|
1433106
|
Rainy eyes fall fast somewhere
close to me
Riding the wind like lust
|
143341
|
We'd been talking about the baby, about what we would do, when the women began fighting after the wedding held in the church next to our apartment. Their fierce and piercing arguments crawled up the walls to the second story window we sat next to. We'd looked outside…
|
143355
|
Years later Polyphemus still remembers the wine-soaked taste of Odysseus’s men. The barley and garlic-flavored Greeks. Their flesh a fibrous, blood-hued hummus. Their crunched bones releasing sweet marrow.
|
143353
|
An electromagnetic pulse/
scrubbed the servers./
The clouds wisped and blew away, empty./
Markets lost what little mind they had.
|
143397
|
Thus, more people can drown//
and leave their bones
|
143210
|
Excuse me, can I now
ask to change my favorite childhood color
from green to yellow?
|
1432109
|
Your tunamelt cadence / Sank me to ocean floors
|
14321413
|
Let me say these words now
|
143253
|
|
143242
|
Girolamo Dente was nodding off in his studio at Découvrir Art when he heard the alarm.
|
143244
|
"Shouldn’t I be able to easily get my arms around nothing?”
|
14321411
|
Dear Brandon Lee: I know that you're dead and can't respond to letters, but I've always felt a connection to you.
|
143264
|
Further down a small group of men lolled near a doorway.
|
