1356 9 6
|
She heads toward the end of the island and doesn't look back.
|
135611
|
He was rummaging through his giant pile of clothing on the floor, looking for something to wear to sleep. When he couldn't quite tell what was dirty and what was clean, he knew it was time for laundry. Just as he was going to…
|
135664
|
His beloved are paper-thin when he blows into the free end. Green tint from copper.
|
135621
|
“You think it’s a self-castrating suicide note or a self-righteous freedom speech?”
“Probably just the ramblings of a madman, pissed he lost a company baseball game.”
“Fuckin-A, Pete! Double-murder suicide for a baseball game? Ain’t nobody that craz
|
1356179
|
...swallowed like a radiant yolk by an epicurean barracuda.
|
135612
|
As a boy, he had little hope of ever becoming anything.
|
135662
|
"What have I done?
What in God's name possessed me?
Confessions of some college trouble in the 60's.
|
135622
|
the injured color wheel of the world
|
135553
|
You are nothing but a generic white man with average looks and intelligence, trapped in an indie romantic comedy. You sit in your overstuffed coffeeshop chair, drinking an impossibly befoamed cappuccino, the sleeves of your flannel rolled up to your elbows, mellow synth…
|
135500
|
|
135541
|
“Damn!” he said to himself, wondering for the millionth time what he was doing in such a sad line of work. Break time, he decided, grabbing his stash box and locking himself into the freezing cold bathroom to smoke a joint.
He emerged thirty minutes la
|
1355109
|
Your tunamelt cadence / Sank me to ocean floors
|
135511
|
õõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõõ
|
135542
|
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…
|
135532
|
Moonless sky of stars, silently flickered by bats, with constellations defined and bold. The curve of the plough matching that of your shoulder, as if it were a decoration.
|
135585
|
Have you measured the cups, the conveyors' yield? Do you know the span? I am the LORD your God, she murmured.
|
135564
|
I try as much as I can to write but only in as much as you believe―am I successful.
|
135563
|
She was from Tennessee,
with advantages over me.
An upbringing surrounded by books
and sensitivity.
|
1355105
|
the
unutterable
things of
this
world
|
135523
|
As I was reading “Not Your Mother's Book on Home Improvement,” a new collection of light-hearted essays by (primarily) middle-aged female do-it-yourselfers, it became abundantly clear to me that, unlike the women who tell their stories here, I am not a…
|
135532
|
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.
|
135553
|
"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…
|
135466
|
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…
|
135486
|
It must be nice not to have to worry About certain things because those things are not yet In your circle, or in your circus, of life. I don't begrudge you for being almost grown in A much different, sweeter place and time. I'm thrilled By…
|
135432
|
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.
|
135400
|
When not enough is left to utterThe syllables it takes to say,Goodbye--Disassembled and developed,Laid upon the ground,Like the girded gridlockOn your smog befitted brow...Goodbye.And what if I said, hello?What if I said, good day?Would it change your sunken bodyAnd repair…
|
135401
|
[............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................]
|
135433
|
As she slunk to her topless Mercedes
sparkling curbside, wax job hand rubbed
in Hamburg, testosterone heads turned
wishing similar treatment.
|
1354128
|
the tall, thin ectomorph sat
on the verdant, green grass
as the unclothed naked woman
on the Sunday-picnic blanket
poured white cow’s milk
into a vodka shot glass
|
135443
|
The blooms are practical/
and cannot see themselves
|
