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It’s a compromising situation...
The would be Bride of Christ begins perspiring
before the crowd.
Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring echoes through the antique church
just one more time,
a little loud.
With every added verse and every flickering vigi
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WAITING FOR HURRICANE DENNIS, FLORIDA 2005 With soft eyes, she quizzed, shivered, said: “Where's Dad? Where's Ric? Will you leave me here alone? Are you all going to leave? Where's Peter? Do you feel all right? We're…
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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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Welcome back to our ongoing coverage of what we mean when we say "Tsunami: A Very Bad Thing."
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139221
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The artist with fork and trowel.
The paint; soil, seed, seedling or plug.
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A fat kid running;
the sounds of an ice-cream truck
—counterproductive.
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We can’t see anything except for glimpses of the other’s eyes, hands, mouths when we move.
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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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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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They've put down roots under the dome. Want to push through the ceiling, blot out the sun. I have other plans.
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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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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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I don’t see the problem. In the country I come from, language is the best part of the game.
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Whenever Lady Gaga took the stage,
We peons on the benches cheered for her:
She dripped of jewels and paint, and blessed sage,
Wore meat as the antithesis to fur.
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Summer, Spring, Winter, Fall, the Good Lord made them all.
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These fern-like weeds grow along the roads. “Watch this,” you say, bending down over a plant. The touch of your fingertip sets it recoiling, stunned–a fun, jungle trick you picked up somewhere along your way.
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That is a six-word story. Notice that the meaning does not change with the word count. Syllabic count: pentameter (ten). Keep these commas.
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139153
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—Mr. Martinelli, can you explain how you developed your painting technique?
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An eternity in a crashing moment.
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Victor didn't want to be alone, so he phoned Sophie.
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So we stayed on the train admiring the time.
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Tombstone is a tongue of stone in the mouth of the desert. The desert is a living entity. It speaks. It speaks with a tongue of stone. It says: Tombstone.
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“We have flown the air like birds and swum the sea like fishes, but have yet to learn the simple act of walking the earth like brothers.”
― Martin Luther King Jr.
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Living in the dark ages without language,
I think I’ve been dead long enough.
You can come out of the vast fields of night.
Come out of the vast galactic storm without light.
The darkened dreams
that speed past with their false and brightly lit
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The thumb, incarnate, knows/
the moment of the misplaced hammer blow;/
the tongue, incarnate, the cool invigoration/
of water drawn from the dark well.
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"Do you kiss all of your models?"
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Inspired by "The Dunwich Horror"" by H.P. Lovecraft, this excerpt concerns the events in the life of a man who is coming to the awareness that his son has followed in his grandfather's steps and begun the process of conjuring a spirit that killed him.
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He thought of it as magic, but magic that he understood, the way a magician knows about the hidden compartments in his hat and trunks.
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