1355 3 1
|
They’re coming now. Thousands of them. Black wings, antennas, spindly legs.
|
135572
|
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…
|
135553
|
The cats sniff at the small opening,/
one by one, in a furtive casualness./
They think the outside air is sweet
|
135552
|
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…
|
135500
|
It must have been then and in those days and during that time when the grass and short brush, like so much amber and jade, emerged from the snow and the poet Li Po, who while traveling within the ten thousand crags of the Tanggula Mountains, looked up…
|
135522
|
No one saw him arrive at the half-moon garden just south of Delancey, no one saw him hang his cage from one of the drainage pipes, but by the time the rest of us got there, the bamboo frame was already covered with silky, golden cloth that reflected the e
|
135542
|
It's always dark when Cal and I arrive. We park under the bright sodium lamps, closest to the doors. The lights will probably be off by the time we return, unless the sensors miscue in the uncertain light of early morning. When that happens, the lights…
|
135531
|
Happens at a party, this way, past frat boys
perched in branches like idiot hoot owls,
|
1355158
|
But even if the truth
Never sets me free
I'll know this ain't the end of me
|
135597
|
perhaps I am only being transported not for replacement but for repair
|
135475
|
Whatever you have,/
we can monetize it
|
135401
|
[............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................]
|
135400
|
|
135411
|
The man was sitting at his makeshift kitchen table. He was forty-five years old. He wore his mortarboard with tassel whenever he left his home. Once inside either a reputable establishment or one generally considered less so, he was sure to take off his m
|
135400
|
They've put down roots under the dome. Want to push through the ceiling, blot out the sun. I have other plans.
|
135411
|
1
Al Capone was ruling the backstreets and alleyways of Chicago during Prohibition, and we lived in a little house right next door to a speak-easy. I could peak through our curtains and see right into the bar next door when cops came in to get pai
|
13542111
|
She connects to you
via snarling vines
& worm-woven tunnels.
Drops Roman numerals
|
135475
|
Forgive the doctor/
his hypocrisy -
|
135433
|
how enthralled might you be, or how much appalled,/plucked from a fresh dream that had just grown serene?
|
135452
|
“My name is Violet,” I add. I am trying to stop lying. Going without cigarettes has been easier.
|
135433
|
had I gotten home without knowing it? well . . .
|
135484
|
He stood with the bride of quietness / on the precipice of questions
|
135497
|
Is it my imagination, or is her chair afraid of her?
|
1354178
|
|
135420
|
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.
|
135492
|
i think god composed afternoons with crayons
|
135386
|
That is a six-word story. Notice that the meaning does not change with the word count. Syllabic count: pentameter (ten). Keep these commas.
|
135310
|
I remember a time when Calvin, my husband, was like Winnie the Pooh and I was a jar of fine Provençal honey. No amount of my sweetness could satisfy his craving for me. He would spread me on his toast with butter at breakfast and mix me with peanut butter
|
135311
|
We can’t see anything except for glimpses of the other’s eyes, hands, mouths when we move.
|
135300
|
He started to concentrate on the music again. It was the album with the crazy picture of Monk on the cover, with a machine gun over his shoulder, a tied-up Gestapo officer and a female resistance fighter standing next to—a cow.
|
