1357 5 5
|
Meaning is harder to sell, unless it’s an analysis of why there is a Justin Bieber.”
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135731
|
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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135721
|
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
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135755
|
Obituaries aren’t as much fun
as they used to be.
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135744
|
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.
|
135722
|
The son stood on the porch with his grip packed. "I'm off to mine me a fortune a gold, Daddy." "Boy, there's a fortune in gold right here," said the father, indicating the ripe wheat, glowing in early morning sun. The kid slumped. "Pop, you turn over a rock there,…
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135794
|
then all crawl out from the wreckage
to begin a dance lasts all night
so by morning we'll be tired
surprised we're still upright
|
135711
|
Opportunity, says Webster, is a, "favorable juncture of circumstances." In my Oxford book of quotations, there are seven famous lines about opportunity. Seven – that’s it! There are twenty-seven regarding failure. Seems it's been easier for the great
|
135754
|
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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135761
|
|
135721
|
|
135733
|
The beer on the shore is
Lapping at the foam of memory
And I can’t sit still
Until I take my pill
Karma Wash, Hog Wash and Swill
I went to the top of the heap
At the bottom of the Hill
I saw a bum’s sign that read:
“Will eat dog food for
|
135753
|
In the neon light and barroom shadows,
|
135710
|
|
135720
|
How many years has he dreamed he would be home again?
|
135710
|
From my office window, I watch the trains roll in and out of the city. Sometimes I catch a glimpse of passengers staring out windows as the train slows, the ones who have another destination. I've been on those trains before, ones that took me far away from all that…
|
135711
|
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.
|
135764
|
Cold smoke from the crater
Breathes on our eyelashes;
The abysmal emptiness held
Its breath just once.
|
135763
|
The Bearcat 101 was a police scanner popular with a certain type during in the 1970s. Daddy was that exact type. I found the Bearcat in his apartment after he passed. His illness was a common one, the process gradual, implacable. No red and blue…
|
135721
|
The Fat Man took a sip of whiskey, then replaced his glass on the table next to his fedora. …
|
135700
|
That was nearly two years and a thousand smiles ago.
|
1357102
|
she lays there
wrapped in his baseball sheets
|
135711
|
Vladimir walked down the little path next to the creek with us. I stopped along the way and picked off a sliver of some of the bedrock that was sticking out alongside the narrow path, to take home with me as a souvenir of my family castle, just to be ab
|
135722
|
we hover black as carrion birds with a glut empty need seems to me she's fell as thee and knows exactly where we posture anxiously spitting falsehoods on cue twittering like snipes cause there's nothing left to do she might have spent her whole life just
|
135622
|
There it was
One abandoned high heel shoe on the sidewalk
Could have been
Some kind of robbery
Though
Maybe it was just
The beginning of the
Walk of shame
|
135620
|
"I need a male friend, and I think I've found one."
|
135611
|
I am tripping on poetry.
Purple ink drips from my eyes like ergot of rye.
|
135665
|
|
135600
|
an island hidden in the sound holds treasure
|
135681
|
If you had a choice, be a poet or not,
I’d suggest prose for the lines that you jot.
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