1124 3 2
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Here’s the local group of grumpy gray-haired men
Chewing over politics as if it’s important
As if their endless discussing of it,
Waving their hands in the air, gesturing,
Is going to change the world
How do these guys stop from having heart a
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112450
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Death is like a warmcup of hot cocoa, steamingup into nothing. The sun rise will bringprison bars of light through thebedroom blinds again. Sorry about thefirst three hours of your deathI thought you were drunk. Across the park thestrange dog looks…
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112422
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An extended account of his criminal exploits for a criminal syndicate of Midwestern newspapers and radio stations hastened a change of career plans.
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112372
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Cold, wet and dreary.The three words that describe Belgium. A country that owns so little identity. Sure, there are the mussels, beer, wafels and chocolate ... But that's about as far as it goes. The lack of identity rules the country, grayness rules the horizon. And…
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112387
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First the room is blank white and then she is placed there and one by one everything is penciled in. Her, in a loose and flowery dress that conceals her feet; a black and white cat, who wraps her tail around her legs and looks up, head moving trying to interpret;…
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112380
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112332
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Let's put a cork in this drain.
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112322
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Yes, I had pulled my own heart apart
Yes, I had slipped up on time itself
In its own backyard behind my memories
And scared the crap out of it
By not yelling, just sniffing at its neck
Longingly, tearing it apart with my teeth
Wishing I had
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112395
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n truth, they are not red/
but chestnut./
But “Chestnut Wasp” lacks menace
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1123118
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Gestures we would like to make in the solitude of a café terrace ... Early in the morning ... She's sitting there, seems shivering. Grey dress, red scarf. Her eyes move. I try to meet them - small, vague black clouds which pass, without resting, by mine. She drinks her…
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1123129
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Where the Story LiesEverybody wants to knowwhere the story lies. Does itlie in childhood? Does it liein old age? Does it lie in anangry outburst or a stingingrebuke? Does it lie in a momentof compassion or in the recognitionof calloused selfishness? Bruisedlove or…
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112300
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Gigantically heaping past the dawn, White rider, swinging circles into light, Do you cross the spar-lengths of meridians, O albatross, conspirant of the thought The sea dreams of its relic mastery? Rainbowed reliquary of…
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112320
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There was a bucket of shit . . .
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112365
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to the back of your mind like a box of unpacked yet beloved books if you want, but that's no life I want to explore any further with you. We don't have as much time as we once thought, to believe in something other than empty bottles lost in the…
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112256
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Our world is a prism floating through its own rainbow smeared shadows in a desperate attempt to get caught. Our lives are in the carpets, the planks, the winds. Whatever has heard us, has not believed in us enough to rescue us from our own …
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112210
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d anon., I've Had Trouble "Loosening Up." I've got to keep my pump primed, don't I?
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112243
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When I awoke she was there again, the woman with the blue scarf. She was standing by the compartment door, gazing out at the passing countryside, the rolling hills of France. I had seen her before, at the market buying flowers, outside a cafe hailing a taxi,…
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112244
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“It’s okay”
Her psychic from Santa Fe
Said on the speaker phone:
"live
and
love
and
create
otherwise
chaos"
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112264
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I know you,
ladies and gentlemen
We see the near future
through you
Your factual face
as you sit indoors
Youthless
In your ordinary chair
"Mice run through their vision
Mice run through
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112232
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Sandy lay motionless on the ground, death giving her a look only describable as "ancestral."
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112232
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I was sent here to perform the autopsy
on the norm, the status quo, the bourgeois.
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112242
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I passed the Crouching Tiger Qui Gong dojojo with Suntory Dagdibolbishon.
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112272
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Let us both stand steep, alone, this night; the tide Lies, hastening to us: and, far away, I hear the sea gulls sweep, through the divide That shapes drear skies, between dead lights of day. What worth was love? Man severs all he is, To make one…
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112220
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It's eight fifteen in the morning, my favorite time to call, and a guy named Ernie DeCampo answers the door in his work pants and a t-shirt. “Good morning, Mr.De Campo,” I say. “Do you have any fireworks in your home?” …
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112252
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Reincarnation. Not a bad deal, especially for cows. For the rest of us, it is like being in a witness protection program. And all without the risk of having those against whom you bore witness coming after you. Usually.
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112220
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and lie down naked in my bed on her back, with her hands frozen at her sides like a deflowered virgin in the Gauguin painting “The Loss of Virginity,” almost breastless, and wait for me to lick her sopping until she almost came, but she could never quite
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112221
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To do the proper set up for the story, it was taking me some time, but each bit was important to the outcome, and while he likened me to Higgens on the old Magnum P.I. series, I just laughed at his slowly closing eyes and folded arm, caught in a half cur
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112221
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Its edges fluttering in the dull breeze, today's town newspaper lay at my old feet, open to the obituary page.
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112144
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112100
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She didn’t want anybody to hear her heaving and crying. She frantically pulled as much toilet paper as possible and stuffed it into her mouth so her sobs would be silenced. Then she slid against the wall next to the toilet and landed on the concrete floor
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