1388 4 4
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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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138800
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this is your hair, this is your stare, this is your voice
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138811
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always thought you'd show up with a good friendly grin, your heart full of gnosis and the rest of you dressed in denim or terrene hues,back from across the world to honor our sacrosanct thing maybe it would be in the wind chiseled afternoon,or the dusk by tables…
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138833
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138833
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how enthralled might you be, or how much appalled,/plucked from a fresh dream that had just grown serene?
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138864
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The voice is back! That voice, like milk and honey, like mother, like the school nurse who bandaged my scraped knee.
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138811
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“I want you to face the toys!”
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1388159
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Squeeze the Word into Flesh
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1388117
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--small chin, timid mouth, frail nose, weak narrow-set eyes--
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138844
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The consequences follow from here:
the shine of forbidden knowing
the apple soon offered to Adam
the twined Serpent’s hidden fangs
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138852
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Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, the Good Lord made them all.
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138811
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Carla woke up from her hospital bed screaming.
"Somebody please help me. Please save me. I am begging you."
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13871512
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138721
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The artist with fork and trowel.
The paint; soil, seed, seedling or plug.
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138721
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“Good to see you, old man,” Greg said. He was like that, an investment banker, a latter-day Tom Buchanan without the polo ponies, self-consciously fusty.
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138700
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Good kid. Awesome job in big cities. Travels a lot. Enjoys Martinis and G&T. She's a romantic. Spends her time online trolling people into submission. Likes softcore porn. Sets cats on fire. Collects stamps.
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138743
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It leaves on a Saturday,suddenly, while you are raking leaves or taking out the trash.Those inevitable, boring things.You do not hear it go;it's been quiet before when it left certain rooms. It no longersleeps beside you, and you learnedlong ago that the bed was…
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1387109
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We’re on The Worm. I dread the part where the train goes under the bay. I hold my breath until we safely emerge.
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138700
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Welcome to the world of (un)reality television. He/she who dies with the most stories wins. Another kind of religion. The Church of Being Famous For Whatever.
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138753
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I build pedestals.It's hard workHeld together by sweat, love, and lofty thoughts - an unsound foundation.The tiniest bit of heartbreak,and it comes crashing down. Always, I blame the builder and not the vandal. The next one will be…
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138784
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I love the notion of uncertainty-/
which seems inherent/
at the level of particles-
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138600
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Most women simply don’t want damaged goods. That’s a fact I’ve been brought face to face with throughout my life. It's something you can continue crushing your brains against, like an impossibly high hurdle. At first you take the damage without unde
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138610
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Victor didn't want to be alone, so he phoned Sophie.
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138665
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138622
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A fat kid running;
the sounds of an ice-cream truck
—counterproductive.
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138655
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a soft wooden clatter, wind-battered reeds/bound to the banks of ditches rank,/ill-purposed waters slide into low swamps/whose waters into rivers seep and crawl.
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138631
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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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13862111
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She connects to you
via snarling vines
& worm-woven tunnels.
Drops Roman numerals
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138684
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These days, you seem to disappear like bread tasted and devoured
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138673
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Granddad listened to Elvis and then he would talk more or less the entire night. “Mystery Train” was Sam Phillips' song. Then Presley recorded it, but did it up different, sounded much faster so you could feel your hair blow back a bit. …
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