1135 7 1
|
The new poetry
comes in shining
metal boxes
covered in glass
so you can peer in.
|
113500
|
This will take forever. I’ll never get to Antibes to meet Isabella, much less make it to Marseille to deliver the picture and then catch the overnight train to Paris. I may have to call Jean-Claude Lyon, the orchestra manager of the Monte Carlo orchestra,
|
113542
|
so out to the night, and turning out the stars, so nothing can last, and nothing is taken in
|
113584
|
He thought of it as magic, but magic that he understood, the way a magician knows about the hidden compartments in his hat and trunks.
|
113596
|
so here we all are/
deep in debt
|
113530
|
Thérèse Defarge felt the first drop around ten.
|
113521
|
Jade in the emperor’s death
mouth – to the grave – all openings
closed – no breath – no air – no life
to enter to leave – the end should
be silent – you stop my mouth
|
113510
|
Mary had no shoes. She told me they were stolen by someone at the shelter and I believed her because she stood there outside the Arlington T stop in a pair of tube socks. She told me she wasn't asking for money. She told me the shelter was serving seafood today so her…
|
113511
|
I blame you for my short temper when I go off the handle when my blood runs cold and I can't think straight I can only react. When I say things I don't mean Even if I do. But I am glad for the fire you started inside of me. That time I…
|
113532
|
The last of the Kazan Tatar Khans. Each dome represents a severed head.
|
113552
|
This year, instead of giving roses or candy for Valentine's Day, why not give something your spouse will never forget.
A brand new divorce!
|
113562
|
Why go outside where the gutters /
are fraudulent and clogged with popularity?
|
113541
|
Tomorrow we will eat it in anger.
|
113421
|
He kept one scarf. It was the scarf that she would tie around his eyes to play with him, long, until he was in his teens. A silly game that made her happy and he squirmed with delight until he got too old. She did not want him to see her, only to know if
|
113411
|
I have a fascination with Dickens and London and this was inspired by my next novel.
|
113485
|
The thrum and the thrust//
have beaten conviviality out of me.
|
113433
|
I will not leave the boat.
The sea has left you.
|
1134127
|
contacts, false eyelashes, strappy open-toed sandals
|
113400
|
Last time I saw the American Dream was Tuesday, down at the Unemployment Office. He was looking pretty worn out, as if being unemployed for over a year was finally getting to him.
|
113422
|
When daybreak comes, it falls a pall pást mé, For it descends too soon for woken sight to see A shade of any gladness in its dew's first blisters: All my dreams of daylight are in darkling whispers Of…
|
113460
|
I had a dream about you once. I don't know if I told you about it already or not. (If I did, I apologize.) I'm never quite sure who you're writing about in some of your stories (maybe a composite of everyone?) but I did hold you one more time. In my dream
|
113410
|
They pumped him full of electricity and waited.
|
113422
|
I wonder what it would be like to dog-paddle in the middle of the ocean.
I wonder how Jean Auguste Ingres got the flesh tones for “Odalisque.”
I wonder if bees have dreams.
|
113400
|
“You know, Miss Viv, I love looking at the sun when it’s almost gone. It kinda looks like an orange and apple squished together. Those are the colors. And the puffy clouds under it look like a bed. It’s going to sleep."
|
113421
|
A meaningful conversation Subdued the huge Toys “R” Us question mark Standing sun-bleached and sprinkler-dirtied In our flowerbed On the patio Explode your fanny pack, A clinking most dangerous The Mysterious: Its …
|
113461
|
The bison know a lot about Longfellow
|
113300
|
Her Facebook profile was bursting with persistent prenatal posturing. She adored the adoration. And now Mrs. Davison’s pregnancy was almost over. This was her big, overblown, look-at-me-everyone, mind boggling finish!
|
113320
|
For Derek, Remembering Odd Jaunts in Overtoun I here remembered how we smoked and swam Under the cadenced pleasure of our under-days, Congealing cross-thoughts under oaken breeze, And watched the Turnered ocean of that swarm Last…
|
113376
|
The green on your shoulder Is worth all their papery property taxes And then some. They cash in every friendship As if it were nothing more than a Ripened apple for pie. Get rid of The thing before it begins to Rot into some…
|
113363
|
until i french kiss every atmosphere
my mouth ready to explode
like roman candles
sparking my fingers sparking off the tips
of my sparking fingers
|
