1205 7 4
|
I like burning lavender on glowing charcoal and dancing hard, thinking about long futures and deep moments. I want to cry and then scream and I don't feel like cleaning up. If I can keep a rhythm going long enough,I think I can build…
|
120511
|
I should have worn shorts.
|
120510
|
We creep the hill, flat on our bellies through yellowed grass and stone, black dirt grimed on our bright faces like powdered war paint. We are sitting ducks as we approach, out in the open like this but Cobb believes no one will be watching this side; it
|
120551
|
Molly stared at the woman behind the desk with a headset attached to her head, and sighed.
|
120541
|
There is some debate about what kind of twins they are. It’s a fissure between aesthetics and science.
|
120543
|
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 …
|
1205119
|
and we spun you, / spun you!
|
120494
|
His will is whole, inviolate,
and wholly full of possibility.
|
120421
|
There it it again, that noise. That low hum that I know so well now, spinning, gaining momentum in my head, like a cyclist in a velodrome, until its steadiness and roundness becomes sharp, painful, cutting like glass.
|
120462
|
I found a field
where all the
unanswered prayers
were once buried
but someone
someone
someone had
dug them up
again
and was putting
them
to good use
|
120476
|
Barbarians and savages wore feathers/
or frightful face paint or skin tones//
one could recognize and aim for/
with weapons one could feel
|
120400
|
Late last night down at Jim's Saloon
Everyone expected that the last balloon
Would go Boom! The one they all saw coming
And Lady Liberty would send the bad guys running
|
120444
|
Through the lonely night
All the roads are breathing
While somewhere on the road
The American soul lies bleeding
The past is all in yellow
The future’s all in blue
While living in the moment
Has lost its rosy hue
|
120494
|
Hilda Raz lost a daughter. Her son gained a persona, backed by biological components. I was impressed by his male-pattern baldness. A biological genius. And yet, I was reduced and in the elevator mentioned crying about it.
|
120432
|
Palinode: A poem written to retract something said in a prior poem.
|
120400
|
At the week's end, memories may come to you Of weekends same as those just gone before, That fade away from seeing as a tide's grey flue, That vanishes once travelled to a shifting shore: Still, hope you'll know a girl for an hour anew, One who fades…
|
120433
|
I saw a big dog
By the side of the road
I saw a small deer
By the side of the road
A little maroon water in a glass
As I was driving home
Under darkness
With the wind that was under a rose
New blood will fill the earth
And we must lo
|
120433
|
It’s too early in the morning to play the glockenspiel. I’ll just sit here and knit this tiger.
|
120400
|
Everything I write is gold, he mused. My words spill onto the page like ambrosia, nectar of the gods, filling an empty vessel with immortal life.
|
120421
|
|
120421
|
Is death like standing in a room at night and turning off the lights? You would still hear your breathing. You hold your breath. Silence. Darkness. Yet you feel gravity, your feet on the floor. Then the air brushes your skin. Remove the air,…
|
120443
|
I had the blues. I was feeling down the day the circus came to town. There was cash in my pocket and a bag of weed. I went to the circus with a desperate need to renew my faith in the good of mankind. Perhaps under the big top some laughs I’d find.
|
120330
|
... if he planned to install them in their bedroom she would find them more than a little distracting.
|
120355
|
I was supposed to write a history of the old world and expose the selfish ones who use their best kept love for evil against the good little witches of childhood, but it made no sense to me to go after them in that obvious a way. They…
|
120321
|
Zoë was stunning in a designer gown so revealing and form-fitting that only static electricity could keep it on her body.
|
120351
|
"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.…
|
120391
|
I can no longer conjure the sweetness of a plum
|
120275
|
|
12021610
|
My first winter in Massachusetts feels medieval: cold, dark, and endless.
|
120211
|
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…
|
