1177 1 2
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shitting out the Mona Lisa.
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117700
|
You will say how easy it was to love him, How he is kind, gentle, Quick to rub your shoulders in the evening And never one to forget an anniversary. They will ask you of his interests, moods, pass-times And you will silently think of…
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117701
|
I need to be commended,
despite the wine glass
that threw itself
at your sister's head
of rollers. Imagine a pear
in the deli meat aisle
ripening behind glass...
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117721
|
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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1177159
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I am a housekeeper at a private women's college in upstate New York.
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117600
|
Our fingers, arms and toes slither over one another along the smooth crevices between muscle and bone like familiar childhood paths.
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117642
|
My inner shape must be a ruin of organs,/
dead or dying. But do come close enough/
for me to hear. I need to know your story.
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117620
|
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117666
|
Deists try to prove the existence of God. I do not doubt God nor evidence of the existence of Jesus nor Jesus' miracles. I merely wish there were more people like him
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117622
|
On my way home that first night, I stopped off at a liquor store on San Pablo Avenue and bought a semi-expensive ($2.98) bottle of zinfandel, a real luxury for us. But I figured I would have a paycheck coming and wanted to celebrate my getting a real jo
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117655
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most famously, a small/
writhing dog. A thousand casts were made/
before they stopped
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117621
|
How can you stop a man from running naked through your dreams? I want to know. This ought to be taught, somewhere. In schools, or somewhere. I could never stop you from doing what you wanted with me, and didn’t want to either. You had complete leave of
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117697
|
The summer I was eleven years old....
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117520
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Almonds of childhood – fending off needless tears and chocolate impulses, almonds of my teens, slivered and toasted industrially baked settling in on egg washed croissant…mashed into the kitchen sink of the catch-all bear claw, then the taste and shiv
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117500
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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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117500
|
a pit-bull or a rottweiler or something like that
|
1175107
|
May the timing belt stand the stress again
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11751110
|
It was a cruel question, coming on breath that stank of the grave.
|
117511
|
I have the idea but cannot find the words
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117500
|
The rings on the engine
Not designed for race gas
Did allow for some seepage
Did allow fuel to pass
The fumes were quite powerful
To the pan they did charge
The spark was quite forceful
The explosion was large
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117522
|
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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117520
|
Her smile was a cliff I stood on, trying to wrangle some kind of hope from the whites of her teeth. I heard the sound of the buzzer from the door on my ward. She stood there, a sickly ash tree, each limb flailing about like she was drowning in my sea of a
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117552
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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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117500
|
and he'll be dead within a week
but i'll still be ordering a large black coffee
and smoking upwind
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117531
|
Crunching gravel beneath my feet, the sound of approaching death.
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117543
|
He called himself Theodore Birdwhistle.
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117512
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pulling my bones apart, fingers are supernatural beings
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117598
|
When they talk, they put their hands
like a cup around their mouth
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117510
|
To become an objection as cool as an ice box. To wither the crops. To hold a baby in your hands. Never mind, the arms. We shoot photographs of you. I still believe in black bile. I still think I'm holy. This rhyme is non-violent. Snap.
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117564
|
I got caught writing poems
at the paint factory
several times
before they fired me
I got caught in the middle
of one of my best lines
but can’t remember what
I meant to say
anymore,
but I know, just know
it was something real good,
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