1369 5 3
|
while the fat stars stand out in the cobalt night.
|
136963
|
I signed up for functional
I did not ask for this mixed bag
of broken glass
I have enough to swallow
|
136921
|
I have never known how gold this time of year, With its palladium arcade, was, of the trees That do not sense the pleasure of their silence; Trees are egalitarian, they do not speak But concourse among themselves, consent to join us At this moment breathing…
|
136911
|
Been running so long
You've been running so long
I bet you can't remember
What you're running from
|
136833
|
His friend Boner, who was more accurately a friend of Milo, who was a friend of his cousin in Dubai and who had, up until this post, seemed to share thoughts in common with him, posted, “Holy Shit, Dude! What’re You On?”
|
136862
|
One of his operas was confiscated when he couldn’t pay a hotel bill. He ended up in a mental home, demented from syphilis.
|
136820
|
They shoveled coal into the furnace of the city so the ghosts would be warm for their haunting.
|
136853
|
"Do you kiss all of your models?"
|
136877
|
I saw the shiny dime . . . .
|
136800
|
Our deepest, most heartfelt apologies about the recent MySpace Bulletin, which mentioned your name and recent film and quoted you in jest. Your fifteen-page retalitory riposte was received by this office this morning, via fax sent by your assistant.
|
136842
|
—Man, what a tearjerker way to end an interview, said Ben.
|
136852
|
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…
|
136844
|
Poems reflect their poets. /
Mine: ugly but loved. /
It is just as well.
|
136833
|
had I gotten home without knowing it? well . . .
|
136822
|
...she did wish she lived somewhere in Ancient Rome, and from one of those seven hills, perhaps during sunset, she would resolve to roll down and meet the flaming orb just as it descended so she would dissolve into embers and ash...
|
136842
|
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…
|
136800
|
My heart was a puzzle completely incomplete,
until I learned of love in your embrace.
|
136844
|
That night, when Nostalgia knocked on my door just before dawn, I had just enough time to catch her coat as she slipped it off and staggered into my apartment.
|
136786
|
That is a six-word story. Notice that the meaning does not change with the word count. Syllabic count: pentameter (ten). Keep these commas.
|
136774
|
An eternity in a crashing moment.
|
136753
|
The cats sniff at the small opening,/
one by one, in a furtive casualness./
They think the outside air is sweet
|
136721
|
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.
|
136761
|
I remember one time that summer I was with you (1964) going to a bar in maybe it was Melrose Park, or Northlake, or somewhere along Roosevelt Road closer to Chicago, not as far as Cicero though. I went there with a crazy gear-head named Roger Hudson, wh
|
136763
|
When nothing's coming in All I have are fragments Cloudy memories Uncompleted projects Disappointments loom large and threaten to define me I am only as good as what I produce And now I feel empty So how do I shine How do I find the spark that…
|
136720
|
Originally published on Six Sentences:He walked out of the hotel lobby into the pre-dawn night and thought about another woman, a pretty Spanish woman, not the woman he'd just kissed in a hotel, and a night he'd spent with her in Portugal, wanting each other desperately,…
|
136742
|
It was almost like I was dreaming, he is saying, my visit to the ruins of the factory that made the first Narrative Machines.
|
136700
|
|
136700
|
Wait a minute, said Ben. What do we really know?
|
136787
|
. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .
|
136754
|
What the hell is going on out here!? Yelled the man with the shotgun
|
