1315 15 9
|
Dread and drudgery sour each day
|
131520
|
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.
|
131521
|
It was in the good and strange middle spring and the rain kept announcing itself on the doorsteps and the railings of the town. As it bounced off of infrastructure and the top of eighteen wheeled trucks, rather than die little deaths, the drops found their way into the…
|
131531
|
At school, Joe knew the answers to the questions. He used to jump up onto his desk and wave his arm before Mrs. Gestapo told him he would have to stop or he would go to the principal’s office, where the other kids said that the principal made you pull d
|
131500
|
They are kind of cool though I’ll admit…pretty types with perfect angles and poise and judicial daddies and shade tree homes, holding their books preciously against their tight bodies as if they’re into academics or something.
|
131522
|
I keep the book when the lessons are done, go through the pages Momma skipped over...
|
131577
|
often visit me in my room, so quietly, so suddenly, buzzing my head with wonderful, possible sentences. Sometimes I find they've been there radiating all along, children ready to burst out in a sneaky fit of laughter if I move just slightly…
|
131541
|
We call this game the end of the world...
|
131500
|
When the lore of the land could no longer hold the minds of men, they turned their eyes to places where they expected to find no other gaze.
|
131550
|
Bitter the sun when it is in Hades
High fans meaning nothing keep the heat down
but the nitre keeps burning
So glows the gloss and high sheen on the skin
Foreheads exhibit thought
though the eyes are crossed
and at night, butterflies i
|
131544
|
But in 1991 Carmen developed a heroin habit and was forced to sell her powder blue, convertible Mercedes 500SL...
|
131500
|
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.
|
131541
|
Tomorrow we will eat it in anger.
|
131410
|
When I was a boy and just out of seminary school, I went to a Doors concert and heard Jim Morrison sing his song ‘Soft Parade’ – it changed my life.
|
1314119
|
|
131453
|
They borrowed birds from the trees
And forced me to sing along with them
You could say they made my heart burn
But we all know some of that was fake
It was a direct route
From sleep walking
To sleep shopping
To this
I guess I lived a
|
131464
|
Cold smoke from the crater
Breathes on our eyelashes;
The abysmal emptiness held
Its breath just once.
|
131411
|
never have i wanted/ to stay in one place long,/ flight inspired to escape/ existential ennui--
|
1314126
|
it's all a bit like the quiet steam
drifting to nowhere off my microwaved
hot coffee in the sunflower mug
|
13142918
|
It was in the last expulsion/explosion (theories differ) that we became OneWith. Tsunami. Seism. Zud. All matter cast out outcast came back like a gangster on crack. What did it think it was? Who do we think we are? It thinks we think it thinks…
|
131420
|
With some of these guys it was like propping a kid on a training-wheel bike, then steering the kid down the street til he figured out what to do next. Tricks would come into the bar. Roanne had a smile for all but the dregs…
|
131441
|
Monkey Business
Low Ceiling
Wagging Tongues
Guest Sweet
Murphy’s Law
Kinda Hot
Stopit!
Freedom Ring
Lumpy Oatmeal
Better Not
Butter Up
Grumpy Umpire
|
131375
|
of anything if that's the way you feel your love must go down, off its last nut before the big victimizing crash of the end of days and flowers. But watch out for thosethorn bushes that grow from forgotten holes in the ground.…
|
131331
|
This was not a good sign, comforting gestures from strangers were bad omens.
|
131300
|
When I was alive with you inside me, I discovered briefly and finally how to fly. Up near your ceiling as I floated around the universe with widening eyes, like a butterfly, like a god, like a bird with golden hair at my neck, like a speckled moth infla
|
131342
|
Concrete coffeecake
drumbeat gyrate
Andy Rooney ran a meter.
|
131330
|
A kind of sucking darkness into
A kind of noir celebration of despair
|
131355
|
Obituaries aren’t as much fun
as they used to be.
|
131330
|
I guess you felt more comfortable holding your Moby Dick
|
131332
|
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