1268 6 6
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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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126722
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The house where my brother lived up in the hills above Hollywood, looked like any other suburban house on any normal street Anywhere USA, except that once you got inside the house — spread out at your feet was a panoramic view over a canyon that was act
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126721
|
The artist with fork and trowel.
The paint; soil, seed, seedling or plug.
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126744
|
a book of 5 poem-like things I made out of silly string and shot your way when you weren't exactly looking "..kisses are a far better fate/than wisdom."--E.E.CummingsContents:1.The Day's Thin Blue Swim-Suit2. The One Who Needed Let In Most3. I…
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126731
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She seizes my hand. I resist just enough to sense her strength.
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126731
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Lucien Lucien Tidesquall lay almost sleeping amid the soft green grass. His eyes irradiated green midnight under vanquished brows. A plover hovered somewhere in the distance. It reminded him of a poem he had written as a teenager, a haiku that went as…
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126702
|
I once saw a TV commercial that showed a group of Anglo retirees laughing around a card table. The slogan 60 is the new 20 floated beneath their fat, fun-loving heads. My parents are bona fide Baby Boomers. Their lives are build on credit and catchy…
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126700
|
She found Matthew toward the back, cradling an urn with a tasteful black and gold pattern. When he saw her approaching, he held it up for inspection. “You think I’d look good in this?” he asked.
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126700
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The oval-shaped, pearl-white objects shimmered soundlessly in the warm sunlight. Suddenly one object veered off and headed towards them stopping to hover not twenty feet away. Suddenly their phones vibrated simultaneously. They both looked at their messa
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126732
|
For the camera
she smiles
otherwise not
and
only when she is
standing beside him
But for the camera?
for the crowd
for posterity
yes
For their children
for the future?
yes, again yes
a thousand times
until her face
be
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126721
|
It was night. It was Massachusetts. It was an interview in a snowstorm
that Detective Vivian Diaz wished would go away.
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126752
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“My name is Violet,” I add. I am trying to stop lying. Going without cigarettes has been easier.
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126743
|
An excited state
with undiscovered borders, the almost space -
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126700
|
“All I want,” he was heard to say, “is a date with a really
good-looking woman before I go away.”
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126744
|
instead of gun metal deceit, sounds of malice;be a drop of rain.
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1267125
|
They talk but they don’t really / talk
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126700
|
Make paddles of his hands
Use his skull to bail
Rig his thigh bones for a mast
And his skin to make a sail
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126710
|
they say the sense of smell is the strongest sense connected to memory, but not for me
|
126622
|
1. Having made Alice from one of the Mad Hatter's ribs, Humpty Dumpty told her she could do anything, except speak. “How bothersome!” she said.2. In the church, Alice was horrified to be presented with a talking lamb. “EAT ME!” it bleated and, as the…
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126620
|
These are the days you wish would never end.
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126622
|
On the days I wasn’t there, my insides felt like paper-mâché.
|
126654
|
Writing opens doors to perception. For example, the glockenspiel smells of gardenias, but the catwalk is opening a can of Franklin stove. It emits fumes of fairyland and olive. And in the green and pleasant country of Scotland and England, vintage trains go…
|
126621
|
He turned metal chains to rubber with the force of his mind. He prepared tacos for the paperboy.
|
126632
|
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126621
|
The girl lifts my head, and I sit up straight once again. She hands me a pair of old work gloves, helps put them on my swollen hands. She wipes my face with a wet, warm towel. Her thin arms tremble. She cries. I cry.
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126631
|
Happens at a party, this way, past frat boys
perched in branches like idiot hoot owls,
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126566
|
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…
|
126500
|
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…
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126555
|
The redwood trees were taller than dreams
|
12651413
|
Let me say these words now
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