1104 0 0
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VIII. Towards Affinities, Beyond My love, since I saw you last, since before we reached the chamber, I cannot count the quasars which have passed, but there still gleams Time, Like a memory of a lost event unwitnessed, and this illusion Carried…
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110482
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I’d met this crowd of drunken poets from San Francisco
Even though this was smack dab in the middle of winter
Smack dab in the middle of the flattened Illinois plains
Why they all left San Francisco I’ll never completely understand
But there we we
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1104148
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...she shouted, “Benny!” and slowed down as a hand-lettered signboard proclaiming zukeeny appals cidar came into view
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110442
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She was the clerk in the photography shop.
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110400
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bursting girl there is no moon
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110422
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Going to Atlanta 6AM Despite all the issues presented by Delta this morning (the rescheduling of my 7am flight at 1am to a flight at 10, giving me a two minute layover time in Detroit, and my eventual own rescheduling of my flight to 6am, and waiting…
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110430
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this orient tide come occident: this roll of wreck and reckoned eyes that fathomless are found or made to find her keep within the tight shut shell in soundings deeper than the plumblined soul these western waves gone east: these…
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110463
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110441
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She came to him with her arms open and a smile on her face; the kind of smile that assured him everything would be fine. He longed for that smile for months now; seeing her wearing that smile that he…
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110465
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and any stain or streak/
is as you will or wish it
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110475
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I thought I heard
Follow your heart
On the cold, cold
Night of the soul
I thought I heard
Follow your heart, follow your heart
On this coldest night
Of the soul
Leaves on fire, leaves on fire
They told me look
Into the flames
To
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110420
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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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110460
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After too much
I had forgotten how to fly.
There was a small owl with me
on the old dirt road by the wind.
It was a very dark gray,
like an ash.
Its beak moved, it opened and shut,
opened and closed,
but I had also forgotten the language
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110431
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But I sense a tremor in your soul as well, young friend, a yearning of some sorts.
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1104126
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Agamemnon and Menelaus were/
complete creeps. Achilles was//
a pompous piece of shit.
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110410
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I think of particles exploding, coming back together like some physics experiment I don’t know the name for. “Large Hadron Collider,” you say. But that’s not what I mean.
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110487
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. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .
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110443
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This grey is going to kill me
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110400
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Mike Summer's moustache was perfect. Hard bristle and so symmetrical it looked cut to the angles of a military imperative. He was pretty proud of it, thought the team of beaters, who watched him as he sat on the boot ledge of his sage green Mercedes 123 T, combing…
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110375
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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.…
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110354
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The renegade states- Virginia, Georgia,/
Texas, and the rest- should have lost their names
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110311
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Traffic, no need to be in a hurry.
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110396
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I'm mucked now for sure. No one's going to discover my difficult poems in a locked away desk drawer somewhere after the dying fact. I remember how it feels to be knocked out by someone standing next to me in a simple white dress. This…
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110300
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When I was 14 I accidentally heard a woman saying behind my back
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110352
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lift my love and be lifted
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110353
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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
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110300
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“What’s this? What’s this? What’s this?” said Pablo moving from canvas to canvas. He was stunned.
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110331
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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
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110300
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The Time Traveler had been gone but a minute, when Filby, combing his fingers through his ginger hair, turned to the Psychologist and proclaimed, “That’s the last we shall see of him.”
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110354
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The kind of poem poets write and read. I mean, hey I was feelin’ it HARD at 3:24 am, and this is what spilled out.
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