1260 3 3
|
Outside cool fresh morning tiny fingers
|
125943
|
A novel is an idea that has
Survived many severe beatings
While a poem is a homely thing that was
Never even asked to the dance
Art Speak, however, is the art of
Systematically overstating and
Re-inventing the Obvious to the point of
Distr
|
125911
|
I should have worn shorts.
|
125911
|
She was, they said, everyman’s armful;
Bedding down with her was most likely harmful.
|
125900
|
Th heeet frum mye skin on ers wus mehsidge eenuff.
|
125960
|
The silence grew louder as it grew longer.
|
125921
|
and i start
screaming.
i check the damage in my rearview
mirror
but there's nothing.
|
125951
|
"I love you.”“Night.”Back at the screen door she answers “What?” I stand under her nose and say “Box is out of juice.” Inside she sits me on the black and white polka-dotted sofa we make love around here and there.…
|
1259116
|
|
125811
|
I held the steam and scrubbed it. How do you do that? asked Willy. How do you scrub steam? It is so, you know, diaphanous. I said to Willy, because Willy was a good man and listened with both ears, we adapt to the heart's convulsions. I send my grammar to a…
|
125885
|
I'm not plagued with high levels. Must be all the raking I do. My pubes look as lush as my hair, so fire isn't even a concern. Maybe heat exhaustion is.This might be a poem,My oceans aren't small.
|
125810
|
Before they ever spoke, Linda and Meg had sat next to each other in the cramped lecture hall for three weeks, their thighs touching, while Dr. Laurens showed slides of ancient Japanese art. Meg's eyes never left the screen, but Linda glanced at her as often as she…
|
125821
|
Listening to old friends speak the same way, the same things tells me they have been dead a long time. They are in their form of living, their self, there is no new season of growth. I witness each of them continue on the same path because it is familiar
|
125851
|
If someone told me like people do / that I am a good person / I will never believe them / mostly because I own a mirror / but also because I have lived with myself / for the rest of my life
|
125843
|
The old hate the young. Robe exposed monks do not Hate mosquitoes. It is one. It is one hand. It is on. Mountains don't hate sky. The rich hate the poor. The poor hate the rich. The parade of scholars hate the …
|
125821
|
A door in the hallway, with 30E in brass letters glinting dully on its polished surface, lying sideways on the floor like a beacon.
|
125833
|
It’s too early in the morning to play the glockenspiel. I’ll just sit here and knit this tiger.
|
125820
|
We kidnap mothers of all sorts: old mothers, single mothers, young mothers (rarely), but we never do it for ransom. As a society we are adamantly opposed to the use of violence. Our mission is to remove mothers from environments they are not appreciated in, whether by their…
|
125864
|
FedEx merges with UPS
becoming
FedUp
|
125811
|
Run up and down the hill shouting Hollywood! Hollywood! Hollywood! Order a penis size enhancer for everyone in the neighborhood. Invent theorems for the unrivalled glory of eggnog. Get drunk on utter futility. Pack my favorite suitcase with tree bark…
|
125752
|
The moon once rose on its own
Now it takes a series of
Ropes and pulleys to get it up
Because it’s so old
And you can hear these audible groans
Coming from its craters
As it’s forced to listen to forgotten lovers
Obsessing over old lov
|
125743
|
You want to be Teilhard de Chardin? You’re getting started way too late.
There’s a better chance you’ll be tomorrow’s Peking Man if I bury you in the cellar.
|
125754
|
Those resting in clusters of bones, Cradled in ashes of what once were homes.
|
125711
|
Oh, but we have lost-- such treasured souls, at immeasurable costs. Oh, but we do moan and cry-- such treasured souls, no tangible, useable reasons why. Oh, but we whose hearts do bleed-- such treasured souls, we…
|
125741
|
“Namaste,” I say as I hand the guy his ticket. “The divinity within me salutes the divinity within you. Have a nice freaking day.”
|
125734
|
Estonia wore a liver milagro charm on a thin piece of rawhide around her neck and slept with her teeth in a jar. She was dreaming as she often did of the four children she conceived in Mexico. They had been born in bright colors and dust. Her first child Nina…
|
125753
|
Soft rain, small rain, steady rain—
what the shrubs and tangled
young red oak tree need—
|
125700
|
We huddle behind the bedroom door and hear the swish of dad's belt as he yanks it from the pant loops, our backsides clenched.
|
125722
|
these fleeting
moments of insanity.
|
125720
|
If you were looking for her
She's in the backwoods
grafting your skin
from her thighs
|
