2355 25 16
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The last time they made love she could feel the hint of pain and loss which would become her.
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235596
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In the evidence of broad daylight, in the secrecy of darkness, in drizzling rain that teased the embers, Annabelle worked hard.
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235531
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The grenadier moans in his sleep. He’s making love with a dead brown woman. A small, bone thin woman with heavy milk
full breast. A dead child’s milk.
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23543823
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The last time he saw his psychic, she told him you're gonna die within six months.
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235485
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This is where he died, she says to me, and points to the damp pavement. Her hair is wet, and slicked against her neck. The humidity is making everything engulf her. The sleep shorts I bought her last July are loose on her now, but between the rain and
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2354198
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It has scent, your heat, of jonquils and lime, of spices seared in a hot black pan.
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235400
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“I lay in bed every night and wonder who is lucky enough to go home with you.”
That was all it took. She was. You are. Let’s face it: anyone that poses that question is.
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235321
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Ted rose and began searching cushions of the bad furniture in his loft (Monte's loft, if you thought in terms of leases and rent and who had his shit together). Three shineless quarters in the yellow vinyl chair, a dime in the heater, nineteen cents in t
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23532216
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and say did you know it was written just for you? But I will. No one will walk up to you on the busy street one day and say did you know he loved you this much? But I'm telling you now. What good would a pyramid be or a hanging garden or a starry…
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235121
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Mr. Kerouac is the author of On the Road, Big Sur, and numerous other works that defined the Beat Generation, and he's the foremost drunken writer of his time to embrace conservatism.
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235100
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A five-star, world famous hotel nearby even had a new fence put around it recently, to keep out the riff-raff. That would include me. The hired help. A gardener.
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235196
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This is a fairy tale. There is a princess who is not a princess but we will call her a princess because every fairy tale has a princess. Her name is Tanya. She's the daughter of a mechanic and a housewife. She has two brothers and two sisters. She is the middle…
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23501712
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The sea dies where a cello torques on sand, leaving me without its compass. An old clock sings.
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234932
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The pieces of bread dipped us humans in cheese,
the cheese made by cows from our milk.
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2347138
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Every day the trains transported the young and successful and the not so young and less successful who belonged to the five buildings.
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2347179
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“I found a recipe on the net and now my hair smells of pumpkin.”
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2346197
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"The truth isn't always beauty, but the hunger for it is.'--Nadine Gordimer Other things do matter just as much of course. Of course they do. Hey I'm still kind of alive inside this poem here. At least I'd like to think so, so yes another…
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23451811
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The hairs on my arm lift with the breeze; a haunting breath from the open window carrying night-scented stock from the black-shrouded garden.
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234560
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Slipstream features strange events in a typical world whereas New Weird features typical events in a strange world.
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my foreign mouth embarrassed the teachers. my jumbled words gave people sad faces. so wrong these words of mine. even the mentally retarded girl would not talk to me. just looking at my garbled mouth made her slap herself. and my writing. oh no. my writin
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23441312
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We have no more leaders, only rulers who live in another country. I don't ask why my cousin's hand is bandaged, what he's been burning, what's tarped in his truck.
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234453
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That was the first time I went over the wall. No bird opened its mouth to chirp. No wind blew. I staggered a little on the stony edge.
And dropped down. I changed in a cafe. Shaved. Emerged as that rare thing: a new man. My clothes were old, saved for
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234353
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____________________________________I get an internet connection and send this poem out in haste: Drugs, New Orleans…
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234355
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You want to be there, but not noticed. Alive, but not too alive. Because that's how you feel every day. Like an apology with legs.
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2343153
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You want to know what happened to him and your curiosity is a cat pawing at the edges of your impatience as you roam aggressively around your old haunts.
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234272
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"Because of the way our society is structured, a lot of people have to climb hard to get to anywhere reasonable in their lives, losing fingernails and a sense of dignity on the way up."
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2342116
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(originally appeared in Lit Up)http://litupmagazine.wordpress.com/poetry/rusty-barnes/Remind me never to call youagain after you get home late,for the familiar fear of the deadbolt noise,the shifty creak of your linoleum floor,the way you throw your jacket overthe sofa and…
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234231
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Canta el Hombre...canta una canción que guarda una llamada. Está invitando a Dios a venir. Mas cuando canta una canción que guarda el recuerdo de un camino hacia una casa sin muros ni cercado, cuando cada vibración actúa como un minúsculo paso hacia ese hogar sin…
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234112
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Maybe you could buy a Volunteer,” Carol suggested.
Ma huffed. “You know we don't have the money for that. And besides I never liked the idea of Volunteers — taking advantage of the poor like that.”
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I missed the cadence and remembered the verse too late. Now, that place where everything comes together is a first taste of things that have somehow become slightly bitter, and I was choking on it.
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