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He adopts a stance known as Part the Wild Horse’s Mane but calls it a different name--the Part the Hair of the Skanky Barmaid for a Bleachjob position.
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[...] A crimson post-it note/ illustrates the squiggle of a resting pulse wavering/
near the broken pencil leads and whorls of/soft wood which may be classed as evidence.
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years later ghosts enter. . . .
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May is National Masturbation Month. How do I know? My pal Senior Sex Expert Joan Price is not only vigorously celebrating, but doing everything she can to spread the word.“I'm on it!” I assured her when she told me. “Thanks.”…
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These days, you seem to disappear like bread tasted and devoured
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I saw the shiny dime . . . .
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you knew the lightbent it in your favorleapt confidentlyacross heartscheeks and shouldersrouged chromaticincandescent pretendingperhaps the dark had no claimover your lonely clumsy soul© 2013 - Rene
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“What the fuck!” Duke muttered, amazed at what he was seeing in the darkened store. A thin curtain of smoke was rising from under the baseboard like an inverted waterfall. It stretched the entire length of the left wall. Holy shit, the joint's on fire! I…
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It was almost like I was dreaming, he is saying, my visit to the ruins of the factory that made the first Narrative Machines.
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Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my phone?Where the fuck are my keys?Where the hell is my…
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A phrase, a sentence, a stanza,/
sounds among the sums and lists/
and starts a scratched cascade/
of syllables and other approximations--
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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…
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III. Through wheelwind crypts of mystery, through…
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Get a Hold of God
Get a hold of God, will you?
I have seen a lot
I saw
a Great Dane
licking the dew off
an orange bird of
paradise
Get a hold of God
and tell him that
Get a hold of God
and give him a piece of
my m
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You burnish what is left
until it shines and call it
your own.
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the view is
breathtaking here.
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Bardan O'Connor stared at himself in the mirror but didn't recognize the image before him. He was pale and looked like death. He tried to psyche himself up for the latest show with a shot of Irish whiskey. He slapped himself hard in the face. "Get it together man." The…
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I got one good hubcap
I lost the other 3
I just don’t know
What the heck is wrong with me
I got one good hubcap
As you can plainly see
The other 3 were seen
Just a-hanging from a tree
That’s what must’ve happened
When I ran my car ri
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Frank cut the tip of his finger off and it sort of shot over to the lettuce bin. The blood pumped out in tiny jets as he covered it with the palm of his other hand and ran to the sink. He pointed it in the sink and turned the water on, he could see…
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On the phone I asked my mother how she was doing.
“I’m getting old,” she said. “Going slow. But getting there. I’m ninety-four!”
My mother was always 94, when she was really 93. I remember she was 93 right after she turned 92. And 92
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The one-legged crow was back in the yard again. It was there yesterday and maybe before, but yesterday was the first time I noticed it. I've been using my binoculars lately. It is interesting to me...to bring things closer. And it's not just birds, but other things like the…
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You don’t want to tango with me, she said.
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A group of us from work are playing cards at a friend's house, so when my brother Jimmy calls, I take my phone into the other room. I already know what it's about, really the only reason he ever calls these days.“Look, I hate to ask,” he begins, the way he…
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1390 2 0
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The possum is sneering with truth. I can smell the blood under his fingernails. He has seen it all, the backwoods distilleries and the back porch propane grilles. He has slept under the beds of whores and kings alike.
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I noticed Sean changed after his grounding. We no longer played night soldiers around the block, no longer biked to the creek to catch crayfish he'd crush with his boots. Sean stopped hunting lizards, stopped charging smaller kids toll to pass…
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Standing there as you walked away from me that late March afternoon, in the park off Meridian Street, the spring tableau seemed
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. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .
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Breasts were developed after World War II, the result of improved nutrition and the additional muscle mass that “Rosie the Riveter”-types acquired through manual labor in jobs that males abandoned to join the war effort.
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