1188 3 0
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The river was frigid. Branches, empty cans, and used condoms float past me.I lost my jacket when I became snagged on a tree branch. My shoes are gone. My skin is blue-grey, as are my lips and fingernails. I've been face-down in this river for two…
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118800
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Perhaps she’s also a do-gooder. One of those socially conscious, change-the-world type girls complete with a never ending supply of life’s own contagious enthusiasm.
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11881615
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118822
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118811
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It was in his teeth. A blackness, a subscription to an outsideness, a painful contraction of burnt out trees scattered there among sand drifts and tidal debris. His face, lightly weathered and troubled, a tightness built into eyes of thought and separation. His arms, strong…
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118821
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“Lassie was a hack,” Jim the Wonder Dog says as he looks out over fields of soybeans. “She couldn’t act her way out of a 25 pound bag of Purina Dog Chow."
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118885
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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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11881714
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After Slick Daddy — aka Billy Ray Thompson — gave up driving his log truck and took up with playing and singing the blues full-time he was what you might call a hot property around the juke joints along Highway 61. The women didn't seem to mind…
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118853
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The cats sniff at the small opening,/
one by one, in a furtive casualness./
They think the outside air is sweet
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1188105
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The light they love to hate so much is always pulsating within each life; the unbelievable color sword of what happens next when any two people find each other in their hearts and all pretense is somehow gone, for at…
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118800
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They strung him up, stowed on the balcony, and beat him with sticks, and beat him with rocks, and bent his muscles, …
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1188127
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When exactly does cheese go bad? it simply does not, I say.
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118820
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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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118821
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. . . I just didn’t think to call the mortician from the phone outside the grocer’s store, how gauche that would have sounded to any passers-by, a call to a mortuary from outside a grocer’s store!
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118844
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You are in a car speeding through Dublin towards the West year after year the journey uncoils past the same landmarks Kilmainham Jail strapped to a chair bullet to the brain on by the Rowntree Mackintosh factory where the black and yellow and orange and r
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118893
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Our trouble decided when the CUNY PhD student, a poet, cried out, “Racination!” during discussion of my poem.
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118821
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—Hey, lover man, where’s my breakfast? said Monique, tousling Ben’s hair.
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118831
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“The moon is a monk,”
you said.
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118742
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My boyfriend had to work but had gotten a turkey for free and thought I could make it for everyone for Christmas Eve dinner. I had never made a turkey before, and not much of anything else. Now if my sister had been there, it might have been a meal of cul
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118774
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An eternity in a crashing moment.
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118710
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I heard them calling my name. “Will passenger Karen Anderson please come to flight desk Six Fourteen? Flight 912 is ready for takeoff. This is your last call.”
“Mario, did you hear that?” I asked. “We’re on the wrong plane!”
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1187118
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how much is downed/
to counteract the down/
with deeper down.
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118700
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Megumi turned to the night sky. The moon was brighter than she ever saw. The argument got louder as her smile shrunk into sadness.
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118744
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Our Sun bites down on the eager yet pouting lips of the softly puffy looking moon, but a jealous & runny cloud interferes with this story line just long enough for a little bit of fun: a young dancing tree washes her gold and…
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118741
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the cocksucking of strategic death planning
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1187159
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far beyond the far beyond
sparkles the stars like sparkles
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118700
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each vertebra is a golden cavalier, brave in upright vigilance; stoic heroes.
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118710
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Believe me, I would run if I could, but there seems to be a low haze of molasses clinging to my ankles.
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1187158
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I believe I will become a bear, snuggle up in a deep cave, coil myself inside my fur, close my eyes on hurting images, turn a deaf ear to the uproar of the world. Bolt my door to the deceiving voices outside. Sleep. Forget. Wait, as we wait for spring, for the violet and…
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118733
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my pilgrim tongue
on the map of
your body
seeks sanctuary
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