1228 1 0
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. . . lightening for their jars
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122855
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Written in big letters
Across the back window
Of an old Pontiac:
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122801
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There was once a girl. Her name was April. Her family lived at the edge of a village. When she looked out her second floor window she could see the forest stretch for days. At nights after supper she would lean over her bed; watch the stars in the distance and wish many…
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122822
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They’ve got the tourists
On the top deck of the bus
Wrapped up in large yellow
Plastic garbage bags
Riding through the City in the rain
The yellow bags flapping in the wind
Yelling in the numerous languages
At the top of the world
The to
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122833
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out in space/ platonic forms/ dazzle with/ voluptuous grace
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122821
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Hot sweaty bodies slam into each other to get aboard the overflowing subway car. I struggle to wedge myself though the sliding doors, bracing for more bodies to press against mine. The passengers in front of me suddenly stop and fan out.
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122800
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I am—
a plan in progress.
I am motion in motion,
a direction headed in the right direction
by way of an off beaten trail
of misdirection.
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122800
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They'd driven the car there but had lost the keys so that it simply sat out in the yard, the yard of the house they couldn't leave because they'd lost the keys to the house as well as to the car, so they were kind of stuck. Their neighbors…
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122833
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why not just go ahead and walk into the mirror à la Jean Marais following Heurtibise into the underworld.
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122842
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When I returned to Brooklyn, I discovered some explicit nude paintings of a former student of Francesco's from the Art Students League.
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122832
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This is why I’ve decided to assign myself a position in life similar to that of Stuart Sutcliffe with the Beatles.
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122833
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You read your fortune cookie:
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122843
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Across the street from third street music school there is a church wherein I saw a man, a magician, strap himself into a strait jacket in front of the organ under jesus's crucifixion, in front of a church full of screaming kids and their parents and…
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122820
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I was going to write a love poemabout a man named Alex and agirl named Dee Dee, but I couldn'tremember them as well as I wanted. I knew about the time she painted theirnames on the overpassbut I have forgottenthings about them. I don't know what became of…
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122840
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There was always something about the air in the deep south. The summer air. It was always so thick. So heavy. Joey didn't notice. He didn't know any better. He had lived in Savannah all six years of his life. He did remember the one time his father and…
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122842
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... the rift of losing you was jagged and violent ...
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122700
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Experience is veracious and honest; action, the only moral
Dimension that matters, that is undeniable and pure.
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122731
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Proudly we fight, yetWe run, we hideIn the jungle's quietBut how can we hushthe screams of the dead?
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122741
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I WILL play with it.
I WILL bend it.
Use it every day. MAKE it work.
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122700
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It was just a blob. It was a blob that blocked everything from sight that it covered, and it was a blob that refused to remain in one shape or size, but it was just a blob. It wasn't the first time…
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122700
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When I was 14 I accidentally heard a woman saying behind my back
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122700
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I got a rash under my wedding ring. I took the ring off and filed for divorce the next day. Mike begged me to stay. But when you can't trust your judgement, you have to trust the signs. Mommy had a rash like that. I used to see it in the shower. People think it's…
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1227109
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As if reaching for the Divine was the problem
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122700
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Rains came again and wore away at their flesh, revealing bone as white and sharp as sharks’ teeth.
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122721
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My friend and I were arranging the things in my closet because we literally had nothing to do but he found himself in my house again, which he described to me like a disease...
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122722
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1227179
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When I came back home, after coming down with polio, everything had changed for me. I'd been gone for forty-five long days and nights. But it was Halloween, a time very nearly sacred for children in the Midwest, and it brought out the charity of the who
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122600
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"You're my husband, for chrissake!"
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122632
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On the way inside, Peter stopped a moment on the deck and scanned the trees for the raven he and Lottie had seen at lunch. It wasn't there. Of course it wasn't there. He scanned the beach, the rocks and broken shells, the damp stinking rafts of seaweed with their rubbery…
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122633
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My mother was a bluebird
Who flew from tree to tree
My father was a pilot
Who flew right over me
Her soul is still living
There upon my tree
My dad’s evaporated
Right in front of me
My brother’s soul has wandered
Far away I see
I
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