1241 1 1
|
Next morning the thought crosses my mind of snapping Mom’s neck, making sure she’s dead, and then running down to the sea to drown myself.
|
124011
|
I had put the child's wagon, which had been red once, back together again. “Honey”, I said, “I found out the garbagemen will pick up concrete this month.” So, I put…
|
124011
|
my soul is black and it's deep like heartbreak and heavy as stone and as thick as ink and it is pressing on top of me like last nights one night stand like dead weight so that I can't lift my arms or spread my legs it feels like I am walking through mud but it's…
|
124096
|
" No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: he may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing."--T.S. EliotI think, okay now I know, the poem's starting to wear off. But I'm alive, at least…
|
124040
|
"At a bare minimum it deserves to be a major cult hit."
|
124032
|
[YOU BETTER BE READY FOR THIS!]
|
124000
|
|
1240158
|
If I had slept a little longer, I/
would not have seen this rarity at all.
|
124000
|
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,
|
124033
|
This world is always at least as strange as it seems, but usually far more strange, so many non-repeatable phenomena . . . .
|
124042
|
Urban skunks want to visit your neighborhood and be bold in your neighborhood.
|
124001
|
I felt my words reach out and try to grab him by the heart. They missed.
|
124074
|
|
124032
|
Every year I make New Year's resolutions and every year I break them. So this year, I'm trying something different -- resolutions for other people. Hey world -- here are the changes I'd like to see YOU make in 2014(1) Cell phone owners: No more blathering on your cell in…
|
124060
|
and still every time I walked up there - so it can't be the cycling - I was nervous I would do it wrong
|
124083
|
Our lives are lived backward in memory...
|
124022
|
Let your father stay
through that dinner
when his mistress needed him,
while your mother was on the verge.
|
124010
|
The lace fell through the fingers, wrinkled and nimble they had become too used to avoiding the finite objects in life which needed attention. The white cotton sat loosely on her shoulders, the collar exposed the skin which had become dry and her shoulder
|
124010
|
Me leaving is not the confirmation of all your fears. It is not. It's because of them.
|
124042
|
Up to the loft we went, shedding clothes all the way. No one is home, but the place smells like the fresh cookies my mom had made before she left. It's dark and my lips hit his…
|
124000
|
We walk with our heads down, maybe 15 of us, moving under a sun that has grown to encompass everything. Everything is in hues of orange and red like a bloody eyeball on fire.
|
124000
|
In the tumbled-down now there's too much material, culled from pretty boys that don't notice me and tattooed ones that do, and I'm certain there's at least one dreamer soaking eyes into me who knows all the twisted lyrics invoking pretty little horses.
|
123921
|
The blue of the sky pierced her heart. She patted her lips with her tongue and turned to him. “We have to talk.”
|
123953
|
POETRY IS DEGENERACY / IS A DISGUSTING HABIT
|
123921
|
There’s an account of roasting inward, holding myself like a rock inflamed, my inward joy rotting my veins. How was I supposed to go on loving anything after you? Like a pigeon hated at home, awaiting your passionate kisses? Knowing how your classical k
|
123921
|
summon the chamois to hyperspace
|
123966
|
They shoot up through the soles of their feet
once the veins in their arms are all used up.
They shoot up in their necks
like the cows on the African Savannah
|
123930
|
I guess you felt more comfortable holding your Moby Dick
|
123900
|
Vikki respond, "Say big guy, you eat pussy?"
The Mohawk flustered.
"Uh!?...Yeah...sure."
Vikki snickered, "Great. We got something in common. So do I."
|
123921
|
To assist you in recalling some of Episode One of - "A Poem by Jasmine Coriander-Semolina": My head lifted up slowly as I looked up through a gaussian blur of fragrant incense smoke and saw she was crying. She whispered that her daughter, Pastina, was last…
|
