1440 3 2
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while you peed on that little old lady's begonias
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144000
|
Picnicking In Mt. Misery Cemetery We breathe the damp shade, plum trees shining in a woodland where there are few wrong things I want to remember-- the steel fence of the power company blazing under an arc light is one. On this day of ripening fruit …
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143911
|
“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
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143953
|
He is sitting in the infinite rain
and the water is making him some infinite silhouette
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1439208
|
I'm trying to make love to her but she wants to talk.
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143922
|
The boy buckled in and told his mom, “No mommy, I can do it myself”
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143932
|
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.
|
143920
|
Our ragged wits, ragged minds, after acting out all, imitating all honey-like tunes, air song, excellence of song, true flower of the world. So the sun has some of its honey wintered away, to bring it into contact with such a human voice as yours.
|
143900
|
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.
|
143922
|
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.…
|
143933
|
As she slunk to her topless Mercedes
sparkling curbside, wax job hand rubbed
in Hamburg, testosterone heads turned
wishing similar treatment.
|
143940
|
Jillian speeds across the stone wall, the hem of her dress flaps violently behind her. Sometimes she stands with her back fully erect letting perpetual motion guide her down a bend with her sun blonde locks brightening the dreary sky, or she lurches her
|
143988
|
PATHOLOGY How awful it is to dissect a marriage! It lays naked on the therapist's steely table. He makes his first incision into the bloated stomach of our malnourished union. He polishes his glasses and peers, cuts the thin taut skin of our…
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143921
|
What the five-year-old I baby sit for wanted to do yesterday was torture his Barbies. “Why would you want to do that?” I asked.“Because we're bad guys!” said Hanina. “Can't we be good guys?”“Not today. Today we're bad…
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143921
|
It's important to sound
human, I know
To get fragile
near your
mother
I myself
get glimpses
now and then
|
143987
|
I ask if anyone has a poem or a story they would like to read. Everybody's hand shoots up.
|
143920
|
“Sloshes to sloshes. Drip to drip,” I said, then ceremoniously flushed the toilet bowl, our heads bowed in reverence as Molly and I gave Swimmy its last rites. Swimmy, named by Molly whose overstatement of the obvious is endearing in a three-year-old, was…
|
143932
|
...when they spotted each other through the glass, with he inside and she outside, she quickly began licking her fork obscenely, attempting to exhibit her sexual prowess with regard to the dexterity of her tongue and mouth...
|
1439147
|
A brief colorful season/
and then the fall as winds/
break the hold the leaves have
|
143941
|
In the morning I listen through an ear-trumpet
|
143811
|
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…
|
143800
|
—They turned him into a time bomb. Listen close, and you can hear the tick-tick-tick.
—All I hear is snoring. How do you know he was brainwashed?
—Because he can’t remember a thing about the experiment.
—I can say this: If he can’t remember anyth
|
143864
|
It's not stories the quiet lack, but inclination...
|
143822
|
II. ByCoalport Your hair streams minarets across a bridge, The…
|
1438147
|
Through the Walmart parking lot
they came...
|
143820
|
here’s the deal…
sorrow follows tears…
pain later for the happiness now…
is the joy something we only borrow…?
|
143811
|
Salted sea of summer fingers- sand and salted skinmelt in me; vanilla ice cream lick- your lips; salty kiss saliva- sweet salt of semen run down my chin languid-salty sweat of you.
|
143822
|
Robbie’s wrists itched hard, the cord was sunk in so tight his hands were bordering now on blue, now purple. Too late to matter.
|
143810
|
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
|
143832
|
All the time I'm eating I can't help but think of the many different tuna melts I have ordered in diners and coffee shops and how each of them disappointed me...
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