1333 14 11
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Dear Brandon Lee: I know that you're dead and can't respond to letters, but I've always felt a connection to you.
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133355
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this bleeding sun, clove studded & seedless
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133311
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Leaning toward Joshua, Stuart says softly, “Take it easy, okay? We’ll bury him. He shouldn’t be left here, in your kitchen.”
Joshua glares. “Don’t you fucking move him.”
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133333
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we ran that afternoon/across Bayshore lanes/into green blooming fields, beyond all those
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133300
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Lips to graceful curve, / Found a well from which / This dancing lifeblood comes / (Again and again)...
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133343
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133322
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We Must Save Ourselves I'm looking for my savior on subways, Is he this man pushing half himself On a skate board, from car to car, Singing I have no Legs, I have no Legs, I'm looking for my savior in coffee shops Of…
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133310
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His nervous cackle makes me sick - Oh, if only - Times were different - That knife - Would fit so nicely in his back
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133322
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We walk though the streets of London, New York, Paris, Prague, Barcelona, Skegness, inhaling air heavy with metaphors, eyes set alight by the microscopic pyrotechnics of quotidian symbols hitherto debased by the outmoded conventions of a bankrupt civilisation decomposing in…
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133311
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The guy – it’s Billy Krazik - turns and aims at Jamie Stockwell, sitting there calmly as if he’s in the play or something and he takes two to the head.
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133322
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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. /
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133322
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He sees the dogs through the window, his babies, sleeping on opposite ends of the couch. His girl, lying supine, hind legs spread, grotesquely, almost comically, as far as they can without being flush with the cushion. His boy, Cosmo, face down, the power…
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133366
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The entire room seems waiting for me like an octopus behind a closed, chained door. The monk of the lamp knows he will get his daily turn-on if he prays loudly and just enough for it. The favorite chair has my blue dent in its punched…
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133230
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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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133210
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He, an irregular chap,
Was known for his hat with a flap.
Had fleet feet and a very strong back.
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133263
|
If you shoot at them now, it'll be attempted murder or, worse, premeditated murder.
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133221
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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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133231
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Don’t get me wrong. Maria Shriver is hot, but her angled face makes me think a knife thrower is out to get me.
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133284
|
In the moment
I crinkle the aluminum foil,
The sandwich now a deeper
Part of me
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1332127
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contacts, false eyelashes, strappy open-toed sandals
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13321410
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It was 14:24 official eBay time. Louise had spent hours looking at over 30,000 items under “Elvis Memorabilia"
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133221
|
I saw three kids the other day, two girls and a boy, crouched in conspiracy
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133200
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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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133233
|
As she slunk to her topless Mercedes
sparkling curbside, wax job hand rubbed
in Hamburg, testosterone heads turned
wishing similar treatment.
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1332117
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...come come come come...
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133211
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A horn honks, brakes squeal, Chloe’s screaming, pulling at her. She’s lying on the sidewalk. Her shin hurts. Her knee. Chloe kneels beside her. Ring of kids staring. I’m good, she says. I’m good.
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1332145
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I suggested when we passed the flesh shack that we turn around and that I go in and say to the sex workers that the Russians are fetching $3.5K per hour in Manhattan and it's private, unlike there at that road-side shack.
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133221
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I woke up when the smoke alarm insisted. Either the curtains were on fire or I hadn't changed the battery.
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133253
|
"All these people," Rammstein complained, "seems all they wanna do is write about love, and sex along with it, you know? And I think it's because it's all feelgood shit; you know, your sweet baby loves you, and he or she's hot as Angie or Brad, and…
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133263
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You may want to pretend to leave once or twice, peeking in through a window from a darkened room, to see how they interact. Never leave a new poet unattended with the pack until you’ve determined that the new arrival has learned to fit in with the other w
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