1346 7 6
|
Whistler pounded a nuanced nail,
into our inferior foreheads.
|
134611
|
Joanne Simpson sat in her pew of the church that dominated her tiny town, listening to the buzzing of disturbed voices like a hive of bees trapped in a wall. She knew exactly what was wrong. Some parishioners sat on the edge of the pews, while some whispe
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134633
|
Violet goes with her mother to the home, delivering cookies to old folks. She's getting to hate how she goes along with everything her mother asks. Some of her friends are rebelling already, and Violet feels something under her skin. It's still just a dark shape, lurking…
|
134653
|
Her name was Christine
and she was nailed to the cross
of their lust
and their greed,
and their vengeance
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134600
|
A sort of invocation of the open sky, in contradistinction to the dark of the Earth whence came the specimens, a figurative marriage of the literal darkness of exploration and the figurative light of knowledge.
|
134631
|
This year, 2011, you bring about my thirtieth year. I'm apprehensive about this, but mainly because my father made me watch "Logan's Run" as a kid...
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134611
|
His Danger Pistol was out of bullets, his Bag of Tricks was empty, and he wasted his last can of Antimatter back at the lab. All he had was his Charm and his wits. Charm wouldn't last forever, and he'd always come up a little short in the wits department.
|
134641
|
We gave our cigarettes names.
|
1346139
|
There's a witch in Laurel Canyon.She made Wes a promise.Her bungalow smelled like Parliaments. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive oil. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive, and a freshly opened pack of Red Vines. Wes could have curled up into a ball and fallen asleep on her…
|
134633
|
By the time the forked tongue of the flag extended flat like it was pressed between two of my thick volumes on weather forecasting, the man was still walking with his nose glued to the ground.
|
134665
|
Anneliese inserted one of her crystal drops in Hymen's left ear and kept her left earring in. For a quarter, she bought a handful of cashews and plopped them on a red napkin.
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134520
|
I’m starting to feel more interested in my savings account.
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1345113
|
I've written of this and I've written of that, Have scriven as you have it either that or this: But if you strive against the wind when you decide to piss, They say, you'll find up firing against your hat- Like some old Brother who was broiled when…
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134500
|
I honestly can’t say, with Lynda, who cheated first. More than likely Lynda did, because I know she was pregnant when I came home from college for the summer (this was 1963) and we had to go out and find a doctor who would give her some pills to get rid
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1345108
|
If you stop, you starve//
and they just offer what you do/
to others, starved already,/
and schooled, as you, in servitude.
|
134544
|
My story begins where so many have ended, strapped fast to a cold table, just moments from a lobotomy needle and anything resembling the man that I am.
|
134550
|
JOSEPH YOUNG Joseph Young You might start with the top of the head, where the heat goes. This is first, first from the womb, the first word. Joseph Young There might have been a faith that placed it in the mouth, not the…
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134500
|
the first night we visited/ i stepped on a splinter/ while walking to the car/ and half-limped back,/ hiding a wince.
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134564
|
"Psst! You can't hide behind a broken dream.The gardenia's hint that fills your air with her perfumed scent will remain like a residue on your mind. I wish there were an antidote I could share with you, but alas, my apothecary drawer is empty. Many times it's been my…
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1345129
|
We perform our chosen duty— naming/
beauties and atrocities within
|
134522
|
He had that kind of connection /
with his cocktails, intimate /
sort of like a boy and his dog. //
Cocktails have in any case /
saved him from the bottom /
of many dark wells. /
|
134500
|
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 …
|
134400
|
She's speaking again, this time in whispers. Her head is shrinking in on itself. If there is a way to save her I'm not aware of it.
|
134420
|
Liking up with the Joneses...
|
1344208
|
I'm trying to make love to her but she wants to talk.
|
134422
|
So young. So innocent. How do you tell a little one that her mother is dying? The father seemed to be bathing in a sea of hopelessness lately.
|
134433
|
Today, I am almost entirely self-coincidental, though I still feel a lag lurking somewhere.
|
134422
|
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134441
|
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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134411
|
She never leaves her desk, but food appears like magic.
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