1061 4 3
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The old hate the young. Robe exposed monks do not Hate mosquitoes. It is one. It is one hand. It is on. Mountains don't hate sky. The rich hate the poor. The poor hate the rich. The parade of scholars hate the …
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106133
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106110
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They pumped him full of electricity and waited.
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106151
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Now that Spring has sprung I am reminded about the day a former neighbour complained about my squirrel collection. I love to feed the black squirrels that gather in my yard and she became convinced I had trained several ninja squirrels to enter her garden
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106180
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I remember the man well, though he didn't notice me.Even though a million tiny things happened to cause his hand to brush me away from his neck, he didn't notice. Much like the way his eyes bounced off women's bodies as he hurried down the sidewalk in his blue wool…
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106122
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the injured color wheel of the world
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106182
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7.53Another morning ritual. Trying to fill the loose ends of time in the early morning is a task.7.54I've done about everything, too early to work and too late to go back to sleep. 7.55Trying to avoid the nausea of life at all cost. My mind is a snakepit, filled with…
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106166
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of a strangely found desire. I wanted to tell you something important, I'm sure, I mean it's pretty obvious, even in this funny breathing space, but everything has been said to death. More isn't always…
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106120
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He gave her cancer. He gave her cancer.
Not what she said. She said her relationship gave her cancer. Her relationship with him. Gave her cancer.
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106053
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POETRY IS DEGENERACY / IS A DISGUSTING HABIT
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106000
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Lyrics, rap, spoken word, poetryActivating this and thatCorner of my mind, flippingSwitches, turning onLights, opening windowsPushing stale air from a parking garage.An intimation, or implicationOf fresh air comingBehind, chasing oldDead things ahead of it.The way the…
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106063
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We were born here. At the top of the stairs underneath a painting of basset hounds playing croquet. And a hallway closet filled with lost someones. And the police, three times a week, singing nursery rhymes while walking up to our door.
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106031
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That's my memory, kept and clutched as with a sixth sense, that it was a prim Oriental afternoon, with the pink streaks in the sky going God-knows-where down across the park, but very far away. Ghostly, melancholy travellers. Birds met and crashed headlong somewhere up…
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1060118
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Will it take the rise/
of cyber guerillas to finish it/
in the way it should be finished
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106000
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106011
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1Paradise Lost is cast into the lake of fire. Satan tells John Milton to rewrite it in 140 characters or fewer.2Filippo Marinetti languishes in a dismal rural idyll. His hand, possessed, scrawls euphonic odes to the moon with a quill.3Henri Michaux floats through the…
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106000
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I can hear the gardeners blowing leaves. They carry engines with long tubes that blow air in a great rush and send the leaves whirling forward as they advance. Fairies dance in a ring as the gardeners approach, oblivious to the whirr of their engines. The
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106042
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We laughed like lords and lunatics
Our schematics stretched before us
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106010
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I wake up in the back of my car, sleeping amongst the junk and a steel trolley I had used to help someone move house. I feel for the door handle to let some of the cold, grey morning air in. I gingerly step out onto the pavement and my leg gives way as a cocktail…
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106020
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I only knew that my heart was not in my life as I was presently living it. I needed the breasts of my Helen in my mouth forever, or I was going to die. Die! Ah, the life of a poet! I couldn’t go on living like this. Why should I go on living like this?
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106067
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We are the miserable, annoyed, dismayed sick. We slouch on black naugahyde chairs too pathetic to reach for magazines. The computer is down the young receptionist has explained to each of us in young, florid style, complete with “I…
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106000
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Just as Megumi aimed her spell between Arturo and the shrine, a blast of white light fired like a cannon.
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106000
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The bullet split her head in half before she could finish her sentence. Her blood sprayed out onto my face and covered my lips. The taste of life as it suddenly ended.
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106031
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There is something preposterous /
about existing in a universe so vast: /
Such a big playground for such tiny children, /
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106043
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The first time I ever held a gun, I was three years old...
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106065
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“Tell me how sad they are.”
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106096
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my love for you/ is like the falling snow
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106066
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He can’t enlarge the rock—/
can only find its safest distance
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106052
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I remember the first time I met the virgin, Terry (not Mary.) She was in the back seat of an old Plymouth convertible with its top down, jam-packed with raucous high school girls vying to see which one of them could be the most loud and obnoxious, and w
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106000
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you choose to be mine
when you take hold of my hand -
silently, i'm yours
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