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“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."
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135021
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Tonight’s concert was called Desert.
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135041
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Tomorrow we will eat it in anger.
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13491310
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I'll see her this fall, a redhead in camo
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134932
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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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134955
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Meaning is harder to sell, unless it’s an analysis of why there is a Justin Bieber.”
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1349137
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I find Vermeer and Bach and feel/
for a moment a shower of my own world’s/
prismatics.
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134944
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I will always remember that
picture of you in your
bright blue summer dress,
with your arms spread out
against a wooden fence in
Central Park.
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134975
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Just a lot of honking and hissing.
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134954
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I loved her when she first came calling in the sodden dawn of spring. She was a strange and dangerous flower. Together we drank up all the money. The days staggered away like drunks lurching down a flophouse hall.
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134952
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She didn't know why she thought the ring wouldn't fit her finger, but it slid on easily and effortlessly, coming to rest in the old familiar place it always had, the groove that had worn in her finger after seven years of wearing it. She hadn't worn it in a few months,…
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134965
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"Poets are damned but they are not blind, they see with the eyes of the angels."--William Carlos WilliamsThere is something beautiful I want to say to you that doesn't seem to make much more sense in a box of clever words like this one. It feels closer to…
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134922
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I whispered, “I love you”
and then, “Goodbye”
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134911
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Jack Krackenthorpe, Director-General of MI-5, sat alone drinking tea in Lee Ho Fook, a third-rate Chinese restaurant in Soho a mile from his Curzon Street office.
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134911
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There is an air of sulfur about you. I cannot tell if / it emanantes from you, or it is the stink of your clothes / from having been in hell for so long.
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134900
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That was nearly two years and a thousand smiles ago.
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134910
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Me leaving is not the confirmation of all your fears. It is not. It's because of them.
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134832
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[VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.]
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134832
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... she’d stolen her boyfriend away from her, leaving her with a goldfish and a cat. Oh, and a pillow and some lights, she added. And I can’t really see you, because I’m blind.
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1348159
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Dread and drudgery sour each day
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134855
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Obituaries aren’t as much fun
as they used to be.
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134881
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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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134844
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They pull up to the curbside and he jumps out
to shake the hands in that familiar men’s
grasp/shake they do when saluting each other.
If that isn’t his daughter it should be, the one
sitting in his car, with her door wide open.
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134800
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For as long as John could remember, he loved to blow up things. It started back in grade school with firecrackers and cherry bombs—he would put them in toys, tin cans, shit like that to see what would happen. Then he advanced to stronger stuff, M-80s. Skip and…
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134821
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It was that awkward time when one didn’t know if the night’s lover wanted to see you again.
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134865
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They got slices of greasy salami
On top of round mini carrots, celery
Pepperoncini, slices of sweet pickles
They got cinder block walls
A Tiki Bar with glasses hanging
Upside down from the stemware over the bar
They got wood paneling, cottag
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134843
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the sand is hot to walk upon so you must run if caught there w/out footwear. it is like a painter has colored the sea and made parts of it dark blue yet other areas green. little birds jump around the fine grain world and that is when you wonder where they came…
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134810
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There's one graveyard for the part-timers and another for the full-timers. Ours is a little nicer, but we're still all going to hell. Do you remember St. Petersburg? No, you're memory's not that good.
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134841
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134822
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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.
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