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"The truth isn't always beauty, but the hunger for it is.'--Nadine Gordimer Other things do matter just as much of course. Of course they do. Hey I'm still kind of alive inside this poem here. At least I'd like to think so, so yes another…
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(originally appeared in Lit Up)http://litupmagazine.wordpress.com/poetry/rusty-barnes/Remind me never to call youagain after you get home late,for the familiar fear of the deadbolt noise,the shifty creak of your linoleum floor,the way you throw your jacket overthe sofa and…
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I should have created a first-date questionnaire heartaches ago.
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I do not trust Shay anymore.
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The field opens up to us like something born.
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2410105
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‘In terms of relationship, I am your Father – my name is the Emperor’.
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240856
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He is snoring inside the silo of his throat. The inside there shines golden but that’s not the truth. There is something caught below the gold.
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I'm Icarus in Brueghel's painting. My wings as it turned out were made of wax. Mothers, tell your daughters this truth. You cannot fly so close to the sun.
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We are the generation who tattoo our stories on our bodies, who pierce what appears impenetrable; we fly our scars like pennants.
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my foreign mouth embarrassed the teachers. my jumbled words gave people sad faces. so wrong these words of mine. even the mentally retarded girl would not talk to me. just looking at my garbled mouth made her slap herself. and my writing. oh no. my writin
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Walking in to work from an unfamiliar direction, I saw her, on a street I had never been down before. I was coming from his place, for the first time, after the first time. The first time, but not the first date. That's not me. I'm not one to... not one who... He worked…
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'This dude’s whole life must be in this book. It’s like, a man diary.' The thought makes her laugh.
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like the sky opened up and showed me a palace above the clouds. he told me he has traveled south beyond the black sea, to constantinople where the ocean is clear green
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Make cartography with your mouth...
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240344
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Tonight the autumn air is clear and still. There is no frost to compare to moonbeams; no wind carries lotus fragrance or rustles maple leaves.
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24033724
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I ate a novel. I digested a film reel. I vomited poetry.
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2403119
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Cherry was America's least favorite pie. Her mother made it every year for her father's birthday because "daddy doesn't like cake." America had to wash the bowls, the wooden spoon, the plates and finally the Pyrex dish. Her brother got to "contribute" by climbing the tree…
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they’d been pumping him
with Dilaudid at night,
to adjust his palette for what was
coming, in the soft lamp light he
watched his long fingers sprout pink
caterpillar fuzz, knuckles morphed
into hinges for Monarch butterflies,
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24005222
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I doused back three Buds in the time it took him to detest a variety of subjects including the naivety of quantum physics and pregnant women.
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They were a family, now, these three: child, widow, widower.
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Once upon a time, a young writer decided to leave his home in Iowa City, and seek wisdom in the East.
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She's standing outside the 7-11, skirt up round her ass. Ripe. She could be a whore but she looks way too classy. Plus she has a huge soda - I'd guess diet - and a Twinkie.
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he scans the headlines of the tabloids as he waits to pay. “Dog Accidentally Shoots Man With His Own Gun, Elvis's Hidden Extraterrestrial Daughter, Swedish Man Bursts Into Flames on Train Platform.”
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239900
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Cheater was a Goblin. He carried a long knife, not quite a sword, but more than your average pocket blade.
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23981213
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Tomorrow the authority smashes. Tonight we march, splash, carve letters in wet paint from room to room until steel blades bend. The letters will tilt in shadows gliding over the walls to mask our tales born of fractured wrists and the ghosts, our keepers.
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239753
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____________________________________I get an internet connection and send this poem out in haste: Drugs, New Orleans…
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When the snow reached the windowsills I was no longer a virgin.
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