1330 2 1
|
I go with the wind, like the smoke of this Marlboro red as it dances among the palm trees.
|
133087
|
The musician’s wife had a roving eye. He didn't care. He liked being married to a wild and crazy woman.
|
133000
|
Swat at those screeching children with tufts of harp-grass. Flail, mad eyed and sad sighed with all gleaming hope gone out of the daylight. Swat and screech swat and screech. We continue until their thick bark-like hides are smooth and polished. We sand them with…
|
133031
|
The whole scene smells like paranoia.
|
133021
|
I tell him if he wants to impress a girl he should learn to cook. He shifts his body. I add, crab cakes work well.
|
133021
|
Did I refer to Mark Twain’s typewriter as an animal? Did I call it a hyena? I would not say that about Mark Twain’s typewriter.
|
133071
|
The sound of a siren approaches his home. His wife asks him why he's so nervous. It's nothing, he says, but he rises from the couch and peers into the night from behind the curtains. The siren approaches relentlessly. The road twists and turns and the sound fades but always…
|
133000
|
Writing books is like raising children. You do your best, nurture them, discipline them, coddle them, feed them, patch up their injuries, sing to them, try to sell them, but no matter what you do, they are what they are.
|
133021
|
It is just a little break from the colicky baby who has finally fallen asleep. Just a little break, maybe a half hour. And the faulty heater, that wolf at the door, knows that and will take his chance. The two of you are lying on your backs, both of yo
|
133032
|
Lying in the blissful glow of young television.
Idly sleeping, eyes open and ears closed.
|
133032
|
|
132920
|
These are the days you wish would never end.
|
132980
|
|
132956
|
|
132942
|
|
132900
|
“I swear that man is a force of nature.” This was her mother's way of describing her father whenever her mother came too close to the precipice. While growing up, she could never allow herself to fully acknowledge the meaning behind her mother's…
|
132944
|
You go out on a night with no moon, when all the stars are flush in the sky, when all of everything, even you, is just a shadow moving softly, and I swear, you can hear it, if you listen hard enough. The music. It’s like it’s coming from under the ground.
|
132972
|
and the President didn't call.
|
132965
|
Clasped his hands behind his head to give a moment’s thought to love and how it had never quite clarified in his mind to run pure and sweet.
|
132952
|
It's morning, and the cold black hull of branches sets my resting pier, Amid this drizzle, underneath the poignant pain of birches, wrecked By floods of midyear grieving; wraithlike, Dawn's been becked To paint in shafts of faded rose that shades the fen…
|
132900
|
We transplant helix° splices and
shoot back to meet our former selves, zip the
scrolls, and save the world. Then you said spin
so I twisted my jumper over and
over in
endless folds like lips, like vaginas, like
seacreatures
|
132864
|
It's not stories the quiet lack, but inclination...
|
132800
|
For so long as I think I shall live.
|
132877
|
this elegant silver wrench/
which from the opposite side/
becomes a golden Phillips-head
|
132854
|
I am trying very hard to rhyme,
and trying very hard not to.
|
132820
|
Delightful days spent at the beach. Children building castles; as parents watched waves glistening under the afternoon sunlight. Sanderlings running with beaks down, hoping for a tasty morsel through the ebb and flow of tides. As time went by, briefcases,…
|
132853
|
It's not a funeral. Nobody to mourn over.
|
1328127
|
They say I am filthy. On this high pillar I perch like a stuffed avian relic, flightless, no prey. The horizon before me is broken by scuff and foreign tongue, by atomized evil. Pleas, and there are many, are answered by the only prayer I know, the one prayer, which…
|
132872
|
She pulled the book off its shelf. It meant something else now. He'd quote her in the mirror, at the backs of buses that kept her moving, something she'd said without saying. He would remember for them. She'd forget, without him, the way she wanted. Garland and lights were…
|
132884
|
These days, you seem to disappear like bread tasted and devoured
|
