1120 4 4
|
when I take the time/now to remember/
you have become/a thousand page/memory book
|
112055
|
Obituaries aren’t as much fun
as they used to be.
|
112000
|
A gurgle of sugar on bark-splotch or blips. A mess: blueprints, radar, or wrench. Lips swell neon blood. So much spit, the lunar tremors. Manipulated, blur flutter flicks. To lungs: choke on scraps of metal, lumber, nuclear. Stir the embers. She's a bone bath for…
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112030
|
From the earth it erupts
Growing longer, stronger, as the sun rises and sets
Days and nights pass, bringing the wind, the rain, the moon, the stars
A place of shelter it becomes
|
112000
|
Danny is one of life's armchair philosophers, and in a moment of complete absurdity asks himself if he has ever been in love. From that moment on he embarks on a quest to find out. Follow Danny as he searches for the 'Pink Blancmange', gets propositioned
|
112033
|
Getting up and reading his poem
The stuffy poet sitting back down
On the leather couch, which creaks under his weight
After adjusting his narrow tie from the 1980’s
The stuffy poet clearing his throat, twice,
During an enemy’s reading
The s
|
112063
|
Meeting the past an inevitable outcome (this inside a future fortune cookie). Shame pierces her like a sudden migraine.
|
112010
|
The harsh lights of the 7th Ave. Local revealed dark circles that had remained hidden during Vivian’s performance.
|
112043
|
And her life runs like clockwork. And the kids wouldn’t get to school without her, and the paychecks wouldn’t arrive and the taxes wouldn’t get paid. And she listens to religion and country and God telling her how to run her life, what to do and when. B
|
112011
|
I love you, I said. A beautiful smile struggled through the pain. But I love you more.
|
112064
|
It was an autumn day, late in the afternoon, a Tuesday, when the last murderer died. There was no official announcement. Indeed, she and her crime had been forgotten. Pancreatitis, her cause of death. Quite treatable, the cancer. Nothing could be done for the gene that…
|
112022
|
the impression I had gotten of him was that he was fifty percent yuppie and fifty percent drug dealer from Marin.
|
112000
|
CHAPTER ONE About nine-thirty P.M. on Friday night, Mary Fowler pushed her grocery cart through the double sliding glass doors. It was three weeks before Christmas. The sun had set and the temperature had begun to cool rapidly in…
|
112000
|
You already had me in all your other paintings. You already had me in every possible position. Underwater, in a car seat, on your back lawn at night with lightning coming from the west, bending over to sniff a rose, with my panties down around my knees.
|
112000
|
they'd turned into humans overnight
|
112041
|
And so, many ideas and stories and wonders crash onto the shores of my conscience...
|
112010
|
|
111922
|
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
|
111920
|
Angelo stood to the side and lit a cigarette.
|
111920
|
Time is a form of sandwich. Each component of the sandwich is nestled between night and day, which enclose it like slices of bread. There are minutes, hours, and seconds. Seconds are tiny, like sesame seeds. Minutes are a little larger. Think of them as p
|
111900
|
I have hate and it is black not midnight, crisp fresh clear. Unadulterated. It is dirty, poor, gritty solid rough like unripe stone fruit. A peach, mealy and dry. The killing, effete, endures. Silent, my repugnance, sick, eats…
|
111910
|
I liked E first because she knew all the words to "Alice's Restaurant." Everybody knows "American Pie," but "Alice's," that's impressive. We used to cut class in high school and drive around listening to it, and I'd try to pretend I knew the words, but I never did, so…
|
111910
|
Lupe drove. She didn't know where she was going, but still she drove. The Mustang whined because she did not shift gears. The street was wet from a night rain and if…
|
111910
|
Around sunset or sometime after, we are on the futon talking about dream lives and cancers. He asks me about my ideal living situation, my ideal career, my ideals in general. I would be a turtle, I say. I would travel and have a home I could always go to, I could always be…
|
111921
|
The rhythm of my breathing
is a litany of regret.
|
111955
|
|
1119126
|
Agamemnon and Menelaus were/
complete creeps. Achilles was//
a pompous piece of shit.
|
111911
|
|
111942
|
He came up from under the water and looked at us. I asked, Whatcha doin' here? Then he said he was going for a swim because the water was warm. Mickey and I looked at each other. He is going for a swim because the water is warm, I told Mickey. Then his…
|
111920
|
Miriam smiled as I entered through the old, creaky metal front door of her home. She sat still, face marked of deep wrinkles, tense with the pain only another cancer patient would understand. In that soft, sweet, melodic voice, she greeted me. '"Hello Ms. Monica, I've been…
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