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No One The city he abandoned lies below him. It's been years, so many tears. He admires the remains of the White City, The Shed, rooted ahead. He jaunts through Roosevelt Train station, hassled by the acrid stench pollinating the area. I…
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128145
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Soccer Tease
Nerdvana
Ballsa Wood
Pulp Friction
Spam Folder
Fetal Position
Wayne Newton’s Yacht
Late Bloomers
Sir Real Geese
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128121
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Listening for a chain saw with one ear and to Todd and the trooper with the other, I’m trying to hustle up and finish my business - sweating in my coat and sweatshirt - and I think this: not so silly now, is it, this invisible or being able to fly choice?
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128110
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Your words broke meLike a china vase dropped to the floorAnd though the pieces were recoveredStuck together with love and compassionThe cracks are there for those who lookI was happy to be there, content in that placeYou wanting to be somewhere elseNever telling me where…
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128011
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They heard Chu’s voice, he was lying ten feet away, his skull opened up.
“Find my change,” was all he was saying. “I left my change around, look for it."
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128030
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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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128000
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"The baby's head..it was so big. There were complications...I saw it all. They tried to get me out of the room but I saw it all. He split her apart like a coconut Norm! She was gone like that."
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128033
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I thought
we ended things a long time ago
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1280107
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By the time the third car disappeared, Bud had noticed sudden lulls in the breeze, rain microbursts from otherwise blue skies, cold humid calms that trailed him around the junk.
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128000
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III. The entire place was dusty and rocky, much different from my home. Pockets of power, heat, had proven to be dangerous and inhospitable, sometimes even volatile. It was not the first sign that I…
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128054
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I have constructed this emotion with tinfoil and stilts. I wear the mask of a typewriter. I have roots in Minnesota. I have a glass hat and a junkyard monstrosity pregnant with parables.
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127941
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B developed a thick emulsion that he paints onto the pieces of meat on which he prints photographs.
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127931
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What do you do
when a Shirelle asks you
if you’re in the mood to dance?
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127911
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"Take the other arm, Jonas! Take the other arm," I said, laughing. "Make me a better god!"
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127995
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I'm staying in swinging all night
Hell not just all night but every night
I can possibly sink my teeth into
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127941
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Suddenly you've got something to do on Sundays -
Wake up early and dress your best.
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127952
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Like the Lady Miss Kier, I believe in the power of love. I believe.
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127978
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Number the herd. Number/
the baskets after harvest./
Note the reappearance of the moon/
after its short absence.
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127933
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The sun was a dish of burnished courage
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127811
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It sits there, watching, waiting, multiple cycles over.
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127833
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Here comes the bus. It’s going to Tuscany and is full of pronouns: he, she, me, you, it, them, us, we, and you again.
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127850
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The banality of his own state of boredom, a luxury to be satiated with violence, to hack with an axe the exposed neck of his friend.
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127830
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Kiln dried mummies, landscape of once were alpacas. / Now all the wool is farmed in Alva
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127833
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It's early spring and rains leave miniature ponds not deep but attractive to a Drake and Mallard pair moving into the neighborhood settling quacking down. Not sensing transience in their comfortable puddle they get on swimmingly bottom…
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127852
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If I was a bum
I’d risk everything
For a drink or a smoke.
I would beg and curse and steal
If I was a bum.
If I was a bum
I would cuss out the Pope.
I would not vote for anyone
Because I would know truly
They’d be telling gross lies.
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127830
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They take the blue man out on a stretcher, stiff in cyanotic repose until the paramedics shake him. He sits bolt upright, startled, confused, indignant. ‘Lazarus?' I ask. ‘Argyria. Happens every fucking time he naps on the …
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127821
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The sky was dressed in a wedding gown. The hooves of my horse clicked like consonants on the stone of the butte.
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127865
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"Time is an ocean, but it ends at the shore. You may not see me tomorrow."--Bob DylanThey're writing poems, but not for me. Guess I'll write one for my own. For nobody that I know now. It's a pretty lonely world for someone who sings, not you, not with…
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127820
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Fabulous birds perched nearby, where we were. In their memory there goes the little god, original, in the midst of it all, happiness like anything near the river-mouth. Letting yourself dabble in the femaleness of it. In the lower world or on the playin
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127810
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skin is soft and too easily sliced away
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