1289 4 2
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He saw in her something fierce and wild
and gently led her to
his open palm...
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128940
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"At a bare minimum it deserves to be a major cult hit."
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Last week I heard that there is a new horror movie out about Abe Lincoln, with the plot of the film involving the tallest of presidents hunting down vampire bats with his axe while suspending habeas corpus, writing lame speeches about the freedom of man, restoring the…
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128900
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an island hidden in the sound holds treasure
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“It's not him,” Kelly says. “I think it might be,” says her Mom. The three of us are sitting on the long sofa facing the wall which is one …
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Once I get through this I'm going to start: daily yoga stretches; walking the dog all the way to the waterfall every morning; tossing out, unread, Saturday's ads so I don't think about going into Walmart to buy Stack-A-Shelves (assembly required). Hey, even…
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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.
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128920
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Speaking in tongues
untranslatable,
they move in experimental spacesuits,
uneasy in the other's gravity.
(To say nothing of the difficulty of dancing.)
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12891212
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A thin line separated her lips, like something sketched with a pencil.
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128911
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Performed October 21-22, Gallery 263, Cambridge, Mass. Kathy-Ann Hart, the Hostess; Ryan Wenke, Ubu; Tyler Catanella, Alfred Jarry; the author--technician.
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128975
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One day, Dasha confessed to Igor that she had an incurable illness: Purple emptiness.
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128800
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Love is easy when all is going well, but it is one of life’s profound, humbling lessons that few people love you enough to wipe your butt.
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"Did you see any action?" I ask, hoping for a story. He points to a scar ripping through the chevron on his left arm but says nothing.
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when I take the time/now to remember/
you have become/a thousand page/memory book
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TromboneA trombone blusters his waythrough the bright restaurant,demanding to see the chef.He's furious;the prawns have given himsplitnotes.ViolinsFour violins wait for a bus in the rain.The pervading atmosphere of melancholymakes their plaintive scrapings redundant.AxeThe…
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Every spring, outside on the back deck, my mother and I have the same talk about how time flies, and she always waves her hand in the air as if swatting at a fly, but there's never anything there. She thinks the lilies will live all summer spread like a rainbow,…
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I'm transfixed in Tower Records,all the CD covers dancinglike a thousand little TV screens.Your whispers a remote controlchanging those flickering images.When security asks us to leave,you drive my car as I slumpagainst the window.I close my eyes and transport usStar…
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...he had that same grin, better than a racy French picture.
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Soul? Who's got soul? That nothingness that holds us together, between the spaces, in and out of the cracks in our minds and bodies. The soul weighs something, you know. It's been proven. Some guy did a study where he weighed people before and after death, and they weighed…
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The boy in the elevator with round glasses, /
who carried a newly-purchased broom, /
was tall and burdened with clothes
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It didn't matter if they burned or not.
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"It all began with a painting," I said. "Mostly blue. Acrylic. Naturalistic in a modern sense. She was stylized but recognizable, and her breasts were exposed. Everyone could see her disordered skirt. The painter was a fan of Herrick.
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Words reach out of my mind for paradise. And come back with rocks.
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Some friends of mine took him for a ride out to Broad Channel, you know that enclave of crazies that live in houses on stilts on the island in Jamaica Bay on Cross Bay Boulevard. He might find that when the tide comes in, the water might be a little deepe
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Momma wakes us up early while Daddy's still asleep, pulls out white poster boards, markers from the closet, and together, we draw babies...
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128800
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It's not actually about blow jobs, sex, or coitus of any kind. You probably won't like it.
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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
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It was ridiculous. We were only in 3rd grade. How can anyone know at that age, only eight, that Judy F. was the girl he was meant to be with for the rest of their lives?
But that was how Stephen O. behaved. As if they both already knew this, and they
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Even among the thousands of black cats/
in the world, though, he would nonetheless/
be my favorite with those impurities of light brown tufts
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