1302 3 2
|
He doesn't tell her that he is married, and that his five year old daughter who is living at your house has a mother back in that same city
|
130200
|
"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."
|
130220
|
Poets die every day but are seldom in position to put the experience to literary merit.
|
130220
|
I thought that was the last day of the world (when I floated up near your ceiling,) but it was the first. I thought I had seen the worst. But that was nothing. I know you had no idea what was coming when I first met you. But when we looked in each other
|
130232
|
Sometimes the universe is a coin flipping so fast it’s hard to see which side is polished and shiny.
|
130200
|
|
130263
|
What was it about the aged and cookies? Here was another one that relished them. Sebastian's grandmother was a specialist. People on the outside thought she was a bird enthusiast. Grandma could be seen refilling the bird feeders at all hours. After the morning…
|
130200
|
People think being the best-selling author of the Pokey Little Bunny™ series of children’s books is nothing but cream-filled cupcakes, but they’re wrong.
|
130211
|
Anastomose my veins to / yours so we may / share // a dream pooled between us
|
130182
|
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
|
130150
|
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.
|
13012312
|
|
130122
|
As being ebbs it deepens. The mind grows truant. We inhabit a permanent Saturday.
|
130144
|
I rang the doorbell. Claire opened the door, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. I opened my arms to give her a big hug. She stiffened and pulled away. Stunned, my lips parted, but I couldn’t think of a single word to say.
Ideal, Phillis. ”Broken”, Pure
|
130121
|
Mulvihill suspected, but could not prove, that the connection to all three murders and the three men was a painting
|
130112
|
The women, I think,
Handle it better than
The men.
The men just stare
Straight ahead
Vacantly
Hollow-eyed
Lonely.
The women more
Fulfilled by their lives,
Having always
Expressed their love.
The men,
Not so much.
And find
|
130175
|
We are impressed and cheer them on/
in their struggle against the wild/
and unkempt ravages of nature
|
130100
|
“How about licensed-character theme funerals for kids who die young?” I asked, broaching a sensitive subject. “Do you think they’re”–I hesitated–”a money maker?”
|
130122
|
Where I sit here clad in armour by the stars, I do not think of you; those thoughts are over. Beneath the silver here is light enough, To make me ponder by a lighter way. Beyond the bronze óf our sun and the others That haply rein the…
|
130130
|
The falcon cannot hear the falconer. The rain comes down in sheets.
|
130121
|
My man’s got a habit that’s kinda strange.
I’ve got a feeling he’s never gonna change.
Whenever I take a trip,
when I git back, my underwear’s ripped.
|
130100
|
I am brave, I am sexy, I am strong
|
130011
|
It sits there, watching, waiting, multiple cycles over.
|
130033
|
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.
|
130075
|
|
130052
|
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.
|
130000
|
-Looks like you could use some light, Austerlitz, said one of the men in a heavy Russian accent, or perhaps you prefer the dark?
|
130022
|
When daybreak comes, it falls a pall pást mé, For it descends too soon for woken sight to see A shade of any gladness in its dew's first blisters: All my dreams of daylight are in darkling whispers Of…
|
130054
|
No one has the right/
to script how someone dies.
|
130051
|
Every time I look at you there are two dumb mouths that slip between stretch marks.
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