1273 7 4
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All this broken glass in the road
Tells the longest story l have ever told
Of how you lost your life and I my love
And how you still go wandering above
I don't know how I can return
To the planet where we used to thrive
Along this broken
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127322
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“Miss Brown had spent the morning (was it just this morning? Or another?) purchasing parsnips and leafy green vegetables from the local grocers, when she was overcome by a wave of nausea. The world went black and she awoke in a windowless, doorless room.
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1273158
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If I had slept a little longer, I/
would not have seen this rarity at all.
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127371
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The new poetry
comes in shining
metal boxes
covered in glass
so you can peer in.
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127300
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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,
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127372
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"The tundra was as cold and barren as Mother Theresa's womb."
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127300
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The Gringovitch family was gathered in the lobby of the hotel. The boys sat on the floor using their packs as back supports. Francesca Gringovitch sat on a chair with the remaining luggage in front of her.
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127362
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Of course, no one can control what goes on in an elevator.
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127395
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an artist sits in the sun
moving fingers through long hair
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127383
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Our lives are lived backward in memory...
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127341
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We call this game the end of the world...
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127300
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Watching the surroundings, the school proceeded on with no threat in sight. The Circle of Four entered inside Azure’s classroom where she sat next to a window.
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127310
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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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127200
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Detective-Sergeant Claude Mulvihill sat in his squad car, which was parked on 54th Street in front of Bright Star Recording Studios. He had just finished the second of two jelly donuts and was spiking his coffee with three packets of sugar.
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127276
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They wink at me as if to share/
a cosmic joke whose punch line’s still/
a couple dozen light years out
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127296
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" 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…
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127221
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I remember taking you to see all these sexy movies because it really built up the passion in you. I loved what you did to me when we got back home after those movies. That’s when we were just trying out our dating wings.
I don’t know if you knew how
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127220
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As we follow the trail and things snap beneath our feet, I tell myself that the snapped things take pleasure, find purpose even, in the sounds they make with my soles.
|
127222
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This was why the man on the bicycle was still in time to turn his head to her because he thought it was his sister who lived in California, because she wore the same jacket and in his inattentiveness almost ran over another cyclist.
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127222
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I keep the book when the lessons are done, go through the pages Momma skipped over...
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1272129
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The gulls/
have somehow mastered the art//
of avoiding the nooses of six-pack/
plastic rings
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127153
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POETRY IS DEGENERACY / IS A DISGUSTING HABIT
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127120
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A minute later, a shadow appeared across the left-hand page of the book.
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127180
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Despite kryptonite not actually existing it became possible to buy, for 300 dollars, pieces of kryptonite on eBay. Personal protection, the sales pitch said. The pieces of kryptonite looked suspiciously like green plastic.
|
1271147
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The fuckers tumble out of the bathroom like clowns from a tiny car. The girl has these huge tits and dark red hair. She rushes past me, smelling like chocolate. A guy's behind her, holding onto the back of her jeans. He's not good looking enough to…
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127130
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Thérèse Defarge felt the first drop around ten.
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127131
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When I bumped my head I almost fell to the ground Not so much stars As flashes of lights That looked like sparklers My mother chasing the dog She never catches it The cat sits on a nearby chair It's head moving as the dog does …
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127110
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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
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127154
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I don't have to show you how to fly. I don't even know who you are still possibly trying to be in this crazy grounded world. But the words make us family. I can't help that or what you might do with that public tweet tweet…
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127143
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