1231 1 1
|
Liz lies in bed next to a stranger. He is snoring softly, and she turns her head toward him, looking at his eyelids flutter as he enters REM sleep. He stirs and rolls over on his side away from her. As he does so, he pulls part of the comforter with him, exposing her…
|
123177
|
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…
|
123122
|
I could have said no. I should have said no. Prudence, however, was not in the air. Fourteen minutes later I am at the door of his condo a few blocks from Pier 39. Twenty minutes later I have wriggled into his extra wetsuit and am following him on his wif
|
123111
|
I went back to the Charles Bridge over the Vltava River and felt the plaque of the Wall of Gropers, and that was where we hatched our plan, in front of my ancestors. I could just feel their presence there. They would be with me, the Gropers of Prague.
|
1231125
|
They talk but they don’t really / talk
|
123020
|
2. Travel To Somewhere Fascinating, Even In Your Own Back Yard!
|
123022
|
The next morning Grandpa said the body was gone, no one explained to him the situation, when he asked about her they all simply said, “Scarltanua”.
|
12301110
|
My emulations always fail. At heart,/
I don’t want bougainvillea nor blushing pilgrims
|
123066
|
There I was at the OPEN HOUSE. It was easy, three doors down. The sign on the lawn said, PRICE REDUCED. The real estate lady said, “Back again? Thinking of buying”? I laughed. There were several couples there. People have…
|
123034
|
My friend, drunk, spoke to me / outside a bar where we hung out; / and his eyes were red from tiredness,
|
123011
|
1Paradise Lost is cast into the lake of fire. Satan tells John Milton to rewrite it in 140 characters or fewer.2Filippo Marinetti languishes in a dismal rural idyll. His hand, possessed, scrawls euphonic odes to the moon with a quill.3Henri Michaux floats through the…
|
123000
|
“I swear that man is a force of nature.” This was her mother's way of describing her father whenever her mother came too close to the precipice. While growing up, she could never allow herself to fully acknowledge the meaning behind her mother's…
|
123042
|
Every day from my window I saw John Brigham's dog making its way across my field. The dog picked carefully through the shorn corn stubble taking the same route, I'm guessing, it took when the stalks made a shaded rustling forest. There is a narrow path…
|
123020
|
Delightful days spent at the beach. Children building castles; as parents watched waves glistening under the afternoon sunlight. Sanderlings running with beaks down, hoping for a tasty morsel through the ebb and flow of tides. As time went by, briefcases,…
|
1230117
|
...come come come come...
|
123021
|
He turned metal chains to rubber with the force of his mind. He prepared tacos for the paperboy.
|
123043
|
Man, this bearskin rug was a big, awkward sonofabitch on his back....
|
123031
|
With spring rain
And greening buds
|
123053
|
Well, now it has fallen away some
but I felt better about it when it was raging
|
123085
|
Picture it-/
air not clogged with the shit//
that makes Beijing the dark joke/
of the developed world.
|
1230157
|
She sings off-key while her married lover shadow-boxes his one-dimensional and split-off selves.
|
123021
|
It is just a little break from the colicky baby who has finally fallen asleep. Just a little break, maybe a half hour. And the faulty heater, that wolf at the door, knows that and will take his chance. The two of you are lying on your backs, both of yo
|
123051
|
The roses ask for you when I smell them
They seem to remember your touch more than
others. They can’t bear it when you’re gone
and wonder when you’ll be returning
I am beginning to do the same
I no longer go outdoors to be with them
|
123055
|
|
122943
|
|
122973
|
|
122922
|
On the days I wasn’t there, my insides felt like paper-mâché.
|
122922
|
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.
|
122920
|
If you had gotten pregnant our last time, in 1967 (when you lied and told me “I guess I’m finally over you,”) then our son could have been that man you saw with the drooping moustache and his coattails flying in the lobby of the building in Louisville,
|
122973
|
His audio archive of Bay Area musicians extends along two walls, twenty-five by fifteen feet, in drawers of C.D.s hundreds deep. Where will it go, I asked, permanently.
|
