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FUN MOVIE TRAILER: 41 members of my family participated in a movie I co-wrote and shot with my wife. Have a look!:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wA7k2r81iXEHere's the 64 minute film-noir-style…
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On a Saturday I flew from murky air. My wings grown weak, I stole away from plundered nest, casual stings, and skillful barbs. In family's fold, I perch.
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When we were leaving to go to the ice rink, Lynda surprised all of us by saying she wanted to come along. She slid all the way over in the front seat to be next to me, while one of my buddies, Miller, who had his eye on her himself, slid into the passen
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128945
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Is there anything more emphatic than an ovary?
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You may think it's illegal
Well, you'd be wrong, ya hear?
Cause you're just in the wrong
Neck of the woods
And it's legal here
Want some beer?
Yeah, that's right
It's legal here
Don't go opening the door
Any wider, I know
You don't
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128954
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for that is righteousness / that to everyone be allowed his own choice
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128911
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I hear the undying screams of the children outside.
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128900
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My first Combat Mobile experience was as the only Specialist in an ATC ("air traffic control") assignment. The rest of the squad were simple grunts lead by the massive Sergeant James T. Adams, Regular Army, the ghost of the Central Highlands. Sgt. Adams m
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I’d say something I didn’t mean, then she’d say something she didn’t mean, and on and on until one of us came up dry and would be forced to—take exception to something the other had said, to take it seriously.
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128911
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As clever as clean bed sheets
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128910
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So I threw away all my stuff, because I was tired of it, and because I decided I wanted to revive the Oral Tradition. I figured if it was good enough for our ancestors, it couldn't be all that bad, not that I’m really into history or cultural stagnancy o
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128941
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For hours and hours she swirled, and swirled some more. She was trying to be there for everyone, yet no one realized how much pain they were causing her. Some of them had thrown invisible darts of anger all day, and she had endured each one, because she c
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128921
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Gotta ask myself what I’m doing here. What keeps me tied. Caged. What is it?
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128932
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In this way a section of a marsh or weapons testing range, a forest or corporate landscape is transported into his living room.
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128911
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I drink the funeral in a dream. I give satisfaction in voice overs.
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128951
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We went driving on Sundays.
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128941
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"...and time came hurtling behind him, gripped his shoulder/ jumped clean over him like a buck goat/ the world aged but he did not/ he spent his afternoons in an old car with fake leather seats/ drank cold beer under the olive trees/ or lay in a hammock/
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"I need a male friend, and I think I've found one."
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128831
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For years, Nina lived in an apartment with furniture that was silver or clear or metallic, she could see her reflection in every surface. She had an enormous television that took up one entire wall of the small living room. She and Anna and Desmond, Nina's downstairs …
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128800
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So, before he could brew with the crew, God decided to make one last trip to Earth, drawn by nostalgia and the prospect of watching a football World Cup from the stands. That is where He met Mini.
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We were born here. At the top of the stairs underneath a painting of basset hounds playing croquet. And a hallway closet filled with lost someones. And the police, three times a week, singing nursery rhymes while walking up to our door.
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looked briefly – glanced
shouted loudly – yelled
fell down – fell
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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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If you had a choice, be a poet or not,
I’d suggest prose for the lines that you jot.
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The white and yellow are sublime and desperately powerful, like angry screaming over tears and through laughter or hatred. Maybe the words are about crying or laughing, but the expressions are altogether impenetrable and distant. The jokes told behind the teeth and through…
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I hold dreams made of iron / that tip my spear of regret—
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Sharon called me “Wolfie” (very sweet!) and I distinctly heard her gasp, “Jesus!” when I entered her the first time on my dad’s ski boat, while you and Rick DeMille came swimming up behind us, yelling out my name: “Pharaoh … Pharaoh.” We
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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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Our trouble decided when the CUNY PhD student, a poet, cried out, “Racination!” during discussion of my poem.
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