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I think I know that fly
That fly followed us from our apartment
on W. 11th St
When I opened the door he flew right in
and when we left, he flew right out again
Followed us on the subway to Times Square
Took the Shuttle apparently
Followed
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I heard the patron yelling,
“Hey, man! That’s my cappuccino!”
when the young female snatched it and got away.
But the police cornered her a few blocks away,
licking the last bits of foam off her wiley whiskers.
That’s how they knew they had
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Hours later, when I was on the phone trying to explain in broken Greek that I didn't have the money to pay damages, I started to retrace my steps from that souvenir shop I reduced to dust.
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129800
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All greatest things are tokens of themselves: They need no tongues to say why they are so, To say why suns surpass historic gulfs Or why the rain sheds more tears than the snow: Yet man must strive to paint what falls beneath The glance…
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129831
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I hope some of my students will go on to advanced studies in Charlie’s Angelsology, maybe write a master’s thesis like “Kate Jackson: Third Wheel or Brunette Glue That Held the Angels Together?”
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Easter the emerald parlor remembered, come yourself to convince me now impose yourself firm to the maroon furrow that is my heart. Interloper, make your mayhem here, where I have been miserable -…
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It’s the longing from another life inside that pulls me along by the fine hairs below my navel (at the exposed midriff) and by the short blonde hair at my neck, and by the dense bunch between my legs, if you can imagine. It’s the longing of the love I’v
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If you ask me I'm thinking I'm just blowing off some steam, some hot air that doesn't add up to the old cliche of a hill of beans. A hill of fucking beans.
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It's going to be expensive, but it's booked and I am going to enjoy every single minute of it.
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129721
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By the time I got back to the island only Henson was still alive. He didn’t speak; the gun said it all.
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She was the clerk in the photography shop.
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Swords of Romeby Christopher Lee BucknerHello readers,The following is chapter Two of my Roman epic, Swords of Rome. The book is available to buy on Amazon: A special limited time offer of $0.99 for Kindle readers, and $14.99 for…
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Then there is Ethelbert's husband whom Ethelbert hasn't met yet, and who has literally weighed in, as if fed up and tired of waiting for a long, in full length, needless, wake up story. That is when Ethelbert asks, "Amy who?" related to a different group
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The monsters in the sky burst with riotous laughter, their rumbling voices barking out commands, their cracked nails scratching on the screen, their knotted knuckles tap-taping on the window. Little girl, won't you come out to play? She clutches her floral bed sheets,…
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“You can't smoke in here, Jack,” his father said. “Your mother will kill me.” Those were the first words spoken as the pair rode in silence from Chester County. Jack pulled the unlit cigarette from his mouth and tucked it above his ear. …
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Coming down the stairs, you didn’t see me at all. I watched you lumbering closely. I wondered what they’d done to you to make you move this way.
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Allow me one moment of stasis from pain, If I must really become that one, Who brought by giant hand man's gain, And suffered through theft of the sun. No dagger pricks the injured side, Or vulture picks the source of bile: Still must wan hordes…
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Sick of sight, Ai Kitano constructed glasses by which the wearer was rendered totally blind.
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I strolled mindlessly along the concrete pavement, the cool breeze carrying the characteristic scent of the night. I stared at the path ahead, but not really looking. My legs continued their automated operations. I didn't know where I was going, but that was all right - I…
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I kept my seat. Passengers packed in the aisle weren't moving and until they were, neither was I.
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The old-timers at the Working Man’s Club wear a sheen of indifference every Wednesday night. Beneath the wafting, cresting mountains of burning cigarettes smoke, the train-track rattle of dominoes chipping at the dark wood tables in the corner, the consta
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I let the little fingers slip thinking they couldn't stand to hold on anymore. When they were done they said addled and I was left behind in the room with only my hand. I hurt myself trying to picture the pretty girls and they took out a piece above my eye. …
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Lost in the booth of Mr Punch's dreams,Jack Ketch flinches at the imagesflickering across torn curtains.The chirpy projectionistsits in his nest,flinging pictures:A snake, rising from a discarded pair of clown's trousers.A monkey, balancing on a watermelon.A burning sofa.A…
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I descend to my grave / where I will unbend / until the Coming of Christ
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I believe in scouring the sea with spears
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I remember some of the tight-fitting garments you wore, your looks seeping through them. The light blonde hairs at your neck and at your middle. Were we really expected to keep our hands off each other? It is foolish to think so. I know what I was think
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One day, he decided instead to be-pet them,
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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…
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Strauss does all the stirring at the start./
The rest is all murk and meander
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