1267 4 2
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Yellows and reds shed
warp and weft
bobbins of color
spooling...
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126733
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cummings starts to sniff, his usual routine. He feigns aloofness while raising one wolfy leg to pee on Eliot's sneakers.
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126610
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126665
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My dumb body
that does not speak
still
cried out your name
last night.
Did you hear it,
maybe
in your sleep?
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126630
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She’d picked him up at a party freshman year, calling him Danny. Until then he had always been Daniel. He’d said nothing and his name was changed.
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126641
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Camilla and I watched a movie, then we were the movie. A man wandered in a decrepit house, or in a dream of a house, which had wallpaper hanging like shredded flesh and little mounds of filth and a madwoman with a butcher knife creeping from room to room with fear or…
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126642
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They sit across from each other and she smiles as if they were in a normal place.
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126632
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Falling asleep remembering lies that had been built around lies
Lies to impress people
Lies to make life more convenient
Lies, I didn’t even know why I told them.
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126645
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Publisehd in Linguistic Erosionhttp://www.linguisticerosion.com/2014/08/the-frog.html When Jesus and Magdalene began to cross the sunflower field they met a group of boys, squatting before a rocky outcrop. Covered with…
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126611
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the sour waft of a secret
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126600
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She once told me that cleanliness is next to godliness, but I think everything is next to godliness, if you care enough to pay attention.
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126696
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Wind was a sorry excuse for force
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1266105
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Not quite full, but bright,/
December 23rd.__
A waning moon for New Year’s Day-/
Portent?
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12661511
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I have become interested in Carracci / Ludovico Carracci
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126630
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The first indication I had of what I look like came when a man put me back on the rack, remarking that I was too pink. Over the weeks that followed, I gained a few more ideas about my appearance from the comments of people in the shop. My photographic side had been…
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126611
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On his way to his first fishing expedition in the Bay Area, the man remembered the rustle and shimmer of the willows by the muddied Jemez River in New Mexico, cold beer, the clean camaraderie of childhood friends. He walked along a path choked with greenery to the San Pablo…
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126600
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Betty had been looking for a distraction; the lawsuits were out of control. Her last nonprofit, Faith and Life Children's Organization, had run into some difficulties due to the recession and the obvious result of trying to do more with less. Why couldn't people…
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126661
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Deny yourself that pleasure
For my sake; that feeling beyond measure
That you get when you finally, and with much angst,
Decide not to be a bitch, to a round of general thanks.
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126665
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Mother hated a crucifix. Graven, she said. Evidence that Catholics weren't saved, just stuck in ceremony. Jesus had risen and anyone who had to pray in Latin, count beads or confess to robed men who took orders from a monarch didn't know…
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126632
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And so began my love affair with a thick, semisold substance. Sort of like Mary Van de Velde, the chubby girl who was my partner in my 6th grade polka troupe.
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126600
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My Mother always said that a storm was death knocking.
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126665
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Before you tripped on the third rail, you were like any other: coat a shard of midnight-blue, eyes filled with gratitude but for nothing. You were a lost coyote on a snowy hill. With sad magnificence you wandered, terrorizing passengers who secretly wished to pat your…
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126621
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When people drastically change everything about themselves repeatedly, don't they eventually just end up alienating everyone?
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126594
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The poet could not speak of himself
but only of the gradations leading toward
him and away. ~ Mark Strand
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126597
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Although it was unlikely that she would witness mobsters racing up or down Wabash Avenue with guns ablast, she paced behind the hotel's ground-floor glass eyeing traffic for fifteen or twenty minutes . . .
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126500
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It’s the middle-aged jazz musician who tends to get lost in the shuffle; no longer news, and not ready for the marble statue-treatment.
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126533
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we ran that afternoon/across Bayshore lanes/into green blooming fields, beyond all those
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12651310
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126582
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This is the poem you leave behind that you die in the middle of.
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126586
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She wakes up lip-syncing the remnants of a dream: the throb of cherry blossoms, the whine of lotus flowers.
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