1372 2 2
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137252
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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…
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137261
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I am surprised that you’re not famous already. I remember sitting in your bedroom for hours just watching you while you wrote poetry. I was in awe of you, thinking you were going to be the next Dylan Thomas! Or Bob Dylan. Or Dylan Somebody! And I rememb
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137200
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No, that can't be him, Joe thought. The guy was messing around the displays in back. He had walked in three or four minutes ago, by now, and he certainly looked the part — or at least Joe thought…
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137160
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The arid paramour,
your breath is hot, dry, cedar.
I sweat you corpus fluids and salt
and the unnamably impure.
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137110
|
at the front of the bus/ sways a white-veiled woman:/ gnarled hands upon/ a bag of palms,
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137100
|
"‘Man-hater’ is such a harsh term,” she says. “I really like it.”
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137110
|
Then there she is, and she makes me love-sad; it's a vehement, absolute, hard love-sad no one else needs to understand, though they can see; it's an emotion so concrete it's felt from the chest, not from a tenuous concept called heart.
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137100
|
His cheeks were extremely pink but the pink was not the shade usually associated with good health, it was the pink of Death.
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137100
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“I swear that man is a force of nature.” This was her mother's way of describing her father whenever her mother came too close to the precipice. While growing up, she could never allow herself to fully acknowledge the meaning behind her mother's…
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137141
|
the cocksucking of strategic death planning
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137111
|
“Okay,” Boris said, wiping his mouth, “ready to go see these paintings by Lenin? We go now.”
“Where are these paintings exactly?” Ellen of Troy (NY) asked. I didn’t mention which Troy she was from.
“I have friend in Prague,” Vladimir said. “Has sh
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137100
|
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…
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137143
|
My accordion's name is Sophia and she is from Italy. She was born in fairytale fashion, the way my life in Madrid can sometimes be. A great and nurturing friend gathered money from many friends in our village, to buy me an accordion for my birthday. It was…
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137175
|
Forgive the doctor/
his hypocrisy -
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137100
|
“Now, “Pour Some Sugar on Me” is a hit of the eighties.”
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137132
|
I guess it was, you know, a daze thing: He, lightly drunk, turning red in parts of his head, in his cheeks mostly, and his chest, to which my eyes were drawn because of his v-neck douchebag shirt; and I, sleepy beyond belief, sustained like a zombie only
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137152
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“My name is Violet,” I add. I am trying to stop lying. Going without cigarettes has been easier.
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137122
|
"Which way ought we to go from here," he asked.
She smiled again, "that all depends on where we want to get to." He nodded but didn't laugh so she sighed and strolled around the room, tuning and looking and considering her options.
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137100
|
We transplant helix° splices and
shoot back to meet our former selves, zip the
scrolls, and save the world. Then you said spin
so I twisted my jumper over and
over in
endless folds like lips, like vaginas, like
seacreatures
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1371125
|
They talk but they don’t really / talk
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137155
|
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137192
|
i think god composed afternoons with crayons
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137020
|
By the time she reached home, dinner would be there in thirty minutes, on the table. Not a lively table, just politeness, and calm. There were no issues of the day that needed discussing, no problems to be solved.
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137098
|
we’ll never win/
the ongoing battle with dirt.
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137021
|
“The minute I stopped wondering about
the meaning of life is when I
finally started enjoying life.”
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137043
|
destroy the day
rip up the track
jump in the water
eat nothing but bugs
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137001
|
I was sitting at the barFeeling the blues after workDrinking my 64 0z pitcherOf beerBody hurting all overAnd this kid begins to talk to meAbout how drinking is killing myBrain cellsAnd of course i have heard thisShit all beforeYet i act dumb all the sameLike really? I did…
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137055
|
before five/glancing down Academy Street/sloping west to where the tracks crossed/twisted tangled metal on wheels.
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137020
|
I drove all night, but there weren’t nothing Roy Orbison about it. I’d been driving and around lunchtime I just thought I might stop by Shona’s place.
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