1381 7 4
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NO ONE CAN BE A BASTARD FOREVER
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138153
|
Somewhere between the bleating of sheep
And the laying of eggs
Comes the licking of frosting
And the eating of the cake
We’re not young enough
To know everything anymore
And you may think there’s no rush
But I know this
There’s a limit t
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1381158
|
I believe I will become a bear, snuggle up in a deep cave, coil myself inside my fur, close my eyes on hurting images, turn a deaf ear to the uproar of the world. Bolt my door to the deceiving voices outside. Sleep. Forget. Wait, as we wait for spring, for the violet and…
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138155
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They come to wipe themselves from my memory, but that, of course, is impossible. In this place, we are bound together, the long line of men who have killed me, and I.
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138110
|
it is heavier than it looks with edges smoothed by the passage of time
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138132
|
Lying in the blissful glow of young television.
Idly sleeping, eyes open and ears closed.
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138000
|
There were six people on the bridge, myself included, and we were making our way across when something exploded—it was more a rifle shot than explosion, actually—and it cut like a razor through the delicate fabric of the moment.
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138020
|
My first year I hated how big and unruly the plants got.
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138063
|
I figured he knew what he was doing–he was the crazy one, after all, not me–so we took turns snorting lines of equal volume.
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138011
|
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.
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138010
|
She smiled at him. "You want to know the secret, that's why you want her to tell - not because you want her to be happy."
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138020
|
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.
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138010
|
Us kids in left field steal out bedroom windows after dark to pinch hit Lucky Strikes between first and second fingers, arc the glow of shop-lifted hot-boxed cigarettes over the chain link homerun fence sprawl on perfectly ridiculous grass passing a bottle…
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138064
|
I try as much as I can to write but only in as much as you believe―am I successful.
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138021
|
“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
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138087
|
I ask if anyone has a poem or a story they would like to read. Everybody's hand shoots up.
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138084
|
His legs were pedaling hard and his heart was beating fast, He's got his scars; He can't outrun his past, Down the hill he goes, wind whipped his hair, a new style with each draft. He broke his brakes long ago; He cut the cable and ripped off the pads. He cried…
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138000
|
the first night we visited/ i stepped on a splinter/ while walking to the car/ and half-limped back,/ hiding a wince.
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138032
|
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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138020
|
Charley calls to say he hasn't heard from me. The blinds are gone, so I take a lipstick off the living room table and draw a circle around his head. I make a half-circle for his gut, a squiggle for the telephone cord. He can come over, he says, just to …
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1380128
|
My mother should have been a minister or a peace officer. Instead, she was a homemaker who ran the home like an agency. There were certain hard and fast rules.
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138000
|
There was a bird on the windowsill, a sparrow, its silhouette backlit by a view of Uptown. She remembered many sparrows during her forced trips to Mercy Hospital...That was all over now...
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138032
|
She is not centered, but she finds her way.
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138012
|
As a boy, he had little hope of ever becoming anything.
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138032
|
Hope is the thing playing checkers
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138044
|
instead of gun metal deceit, sounds of malice;be a drop of rain.
|
138032
|
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138021
|
Macro-Microbe parked his car and proceeded on foot, which was a misnomer because he had no feet. Typical for Manhattan, no one gave him a second glance except for a homeless woman who tried to sell him hand-sanitizer. Macro-Microbe locomoted himself insid
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137921
|
Where are you going, boy who never was?
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137900
|
destinies bring me to a damned desert
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