1342 4 2
|
In the end they talked a lot, shared what they could, both seemingly trying to rekindle something that was no longer hot, and yet they could not let go of each other. Year after year would prove that. Right then, just then, it seemed that the physical par
|
134244
|
Here’s a picture of you
Lit up by the internal light
Of the moon. It was a
Super moon that night
And the story of God
Had not been told
And we had to wait a good
Long time to hear it out in the cold
And I was the King of Fishers
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134285
|
Ah we just sat on the flat roof of the school and looked out at what was beyond because sometimes there is nothin' to do but sit on a flat roof of a school and look out at what is beyond. Going up there I had told him to be careful with the bag because if he didn't take…
|
134253
|
while the fat stars stand out in the cobalt night.
|
134110
|
at the front of the bus/ sways a white-veiled woman:/ gnarled hands upon/ a bag of palms,
|
134175
|
Whatever you have,/
we can monetize it
|
134111
|
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
|
134141
|
You can have two threes, or three twos. I hear the beat both ways. It goes back and forth in my head, like magic, transforming from one to the other and back again. And I am learning the basics of music theory, and painting geometric shapes with primary colors. I am…
|
134133
|
|
134160
|
Technique, Technique, Technique, Technique, TECHNIQUE!
|
134187
|
I'll always remember those warm, weekend twilights on the beach after the frolic of the waves seemed to flatten with the impending dusk, sending the surfers home and, after the bait was spent, sending the surfcasters away, I'd claim a square of sand as my stage,…
|
134141
|
... and that’s the story of the Polish worker who looks like van Gogh.
|
1341129
|
For the new year, I´ve given up palm oil.
Made shopping a whole lot harder.
Damn orangutans tugging at my conscience.
|
134100
|
Lulls, and the gulls, amid the tides and their tears (And I join their voices and my heart is run), Though each or neither takes no part in my fears, I join no hands with the beach or the years (And the ships slip near plus yon). Held handfast,…
|
1341147
|
A brief colorful season/
and then the fall as winds/
break the hold the leaves have
|
134000
|
“A lot of kids–granted, kids who aren’t too bright–will choose a school because of its mascot, and that’s what Chipper is all about,” he says.
|
134041
|
In praise of the colorful flock with crowns
of teased cotton candy rising high above
Modular walls, stalled operating systems
staling coffee and pale corner offices
|
134062
|
One of his operas was confiscated when he couldn’t pay a hotel bill. He ended up in a mental home, demented from syphilis.
|
134000
|
What can I offer you, White Moon?This full night lays black before your stoic assent—and Ibreathe my final breath, frantic—for you. I wait, damned,a bestial lover in the broken dark of the variety market, whisperinga word of forgiveness to an empty window. I…
|
134075
|
it acquires a fine translucence
|
134085
|
From words to meaning― how complicated it is.
|
134040
|
Green hands
wave
in freezing water.
|
133974
|
An eternity in a crashing moment.
|
133921
|
She said it feels wrong. Too wet, she said. I snickered, she smacked.
|
133942
|
We're alone and besieged / by badness.
|
133997
|
communication/
with the dead
|
133922
|
Why do you lie? the old woman repeats when her mouth is not busy filling the waste bin. We sit as far away from her wheedle and wretch as the small waiting room allows. A young woman glares at us through the mental health clinic's safety glass…
|
133932
|
The retina was burning, the liquid had dried up, and the veins bursting. My eyes bled. But I kept them open. The sound was like nails on glass, screeching endlessly. Coming close to me louder, harder, faster.
|
133943
|
destroy the day
rip up the track
jump in the water
eat nothing but bugs
|
133985
|
I know you probably don’t want to hear any more of this nudist stuff about my family and all, but this Reamer guy was a red-faced German boozehound if there ever was one. He married my brother’s ex-wife Beryl, after Harris left her to her cheap red jug wi
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