1417 1 1
|
“Forever you will be mine” she said to me, and of course I did not believe her. She was a romantic and so was I, and such words habitually dripped out of her lovely mouth like honey from the comb, in a never-ending flow of flattery which I am ashamed to s
|
141721
|
When she would leave my pillows still smelled like her. I would just inhale her for hours afterwards, sex and honeysuckles.
|
141711
|
They say I'm supposed to see everything as a nail, but I have a silver head. Too soft for bang-bang. Too soft for anything but sitting on a shelf. I sat in her classroom for twenty-five years. She was proud of me and pointed often to the words inscribed on me that I can't…
|
141753
|
Her name was Christine
and she was nailed to the cross
of their lust
and their greed,
and their vengeance
|
141798
|
Walking down an unfamiliar street, / I heard a sudden caw of crows, / some thunder afar, strums of a lute— / a streetcar came flying along.
|
141722
|
The Argument: A couple of young female lovers, one slightly older than the other one, decide to part ways. The elder has contracted a terminal illness, and they decide the best way to part ways would be by joining together through a suicide pact.…
|
1417127
|
They say I am filthy. On this high pillar I perch like a stuffed avian relic, flightless, no prey. The horizon before me is broken by scuff and foreign tongue, by atomized evil. Pleas, and there are many, are answered by the only prayer I know, the one prayer, which…
|
141700
|
Mustard stings the corner of his lips. He swipes it away with a finger, and looks closer at the hot dog. The piece of meat is ripped open like a sliced finger stuck in a doughy bandage
|
141700
|
The moon bulges with meticulous sick amber fire while first night’s chest heaves and sputters free infantine monstrosity from plague-wormed hovels, din mold choked grottos, and stale metal-cast labyrinth catacombs.
|
141722
|
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…
|
141721
|
I woke up when the smoke alarm insisted. Either the curtains were on fire or I hadn't changed the battery.
|
141700
|
|
141733
|
I'm a heathen in the church of the absolute.
|
141666
|
I'd like to grow you a new flower. I thinkmaybe I just will. Right now. Here's as good a place as any. Well you'll probably never get to see it, but it will be there just the same and it will be all yours. Kind of like these poems that I make if…
|
141653
|
He is sitting in the infinite rain
and the water is making him some infinite silhouette
|
1416145
|
“In other words you're going to lie through your teeth..."
|
141633
|
“Psst."I paused in my tracks as I walked in front of the building where Two Doughboys used to be.I looked around. The streets were deserted. I saw the big “For Rent” sign in the empty window where the sweet smell of pizza used to emanate. “Over…
|
141620
|
here’s the deal…
sorrow follows tears…
pain later for the happiness now…
is the joy something we only borrow…?
|
141620
|
I was about sixteen or seventeen when James Miller had a stroke and died. He was a friend of my father's and a preacher-guy. The last time our church had been that full was at the barbecue the weekend after the church was built. Somehow, the structure went…
|
141651
|
At 19 words, the whole piece is a snippet.
|
141641
|
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;…
|
141631
|
My mother’s serene and patient voice flew up the staircase once again “Megan, are you done feeling sorry for yourself?”
|
141676
|
We exist to facilitate/
successful conclusions of hopeless lives.
|
141650
|
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…
|
141654
|
He tells me that he thinks he reached out as he needed healing
and I wonder if I should diagnose him on the spot,
explain what years of therapy taught me about him.
I don't.
Instead I compliment a photograph of the pot plants he grows, organic,
|
141631
|
whenever i see youit feels like birds are flyingin and out of my facemy head is ghost-like and birds flythrough iti want to hold the birds insidemy head and turn them intosex maniacs
|
141610
|
The morning news.
The birthday present you bought me.
This poem.
My hair when I wake up in the morning, at any given point in the day.
Pigeon pose.
My singing voice.
How much I love myself.
Coffee.
Sex.
Not having sex.
Having movie star sex.
Ha
|
141651
|
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
|
141686
|
She wakes up lip-syncing the remnants of a dream: the throb of cherry blossoms, the whine of lotus flowers.
|
1416105
|
the
unutterable
things of
this
world
|
