1163 2 2
|
White sneakers cry, dripping from the power lines.
|
116212
|
Sometimes I try to hum / along with the air conditioning, / and pretend I do not exist, but am merely / the space that fills the room.
|
116200
|
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…
|
116287
|
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;…
|
116200
|
She says that she’s a prisoner in her own life, and if she wants to get drunk at two in the afternoon with a bunch of union men, then she’ll do it. She says I am welcome to go fuck myself.
|
1162107
|
May the timing belt stand the stress again
|
116211
|
I hold down the control-alt-delete keys simultaneously and the screen goes blank, sending Camus into a paroxysm of fear; for a guy who wrote an essay on facing down suicide, he’s kind of jumpy.
|
116200
|
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
|
116200
|
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…
|
116200
|
|
116200
|
Will you leave me, you, the one?
|
116232
|
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
|
116211
|
I like to keep my mind uncluttered for truly fresh information, like the fact that T.S. Eliot taught Virginia Woolf the Chicken Strut. That's news you can use.
|
116222
|
He sure can play piano
With those giant lobster hands
In his ratty raccoon coat
And his old black cowboy hat
His boots of Spanish leather
And face like sultry weather
His raspy croaking voice
Picking out the words so choice
They reall
|
116100
|
Our fingers, arms and toes slither over one another along the smooth crevices between muscle and bone like familiar childhood paths.
|
116142
|
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.
|
116141
|
I knocked on all the windows, on all the doors. No one answered. The television was glowing. I went around behind your house and saw it through the curtains, blowing in. (I knew you were hurting.) Knocked and tried the sliding glass door, the flimsy scr
|
11612411
|
I remembered our wedding reception. I tasted the crab cake, pulled her from greeting people, said, you have to try. And she did.
|
116166
|
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
|
116130
|
...afraid of cancer, fire, floods, famine, being audited by the IRS....the list goes on and on....
|
116180
|
|
116100
|
I think I have experienced this before: This fractal sigh upon the star-scarped floor, That makes this concrete mock of valley heath- Below the traffic lanterns at the door, Of frigid other flowers lovers ‘queath None but their eyes to.…
|
116111
|
the arc of her invective presumably aimed at the little boy and girl ambling halfway down the block behind her
|
116120
|
she covered me with down and kissed me good night, tucking in loose ends, whispering prayers... she cut me out of paper and blew me into life. she held the scissors near my neck in case i put up a fight. she covered me in clothes cut out of colored paper: polka dotted…
|
116122
|
Spilled milk it is --lactate of common desire;water under the bridge, slow-moving, white. So this is what we feed on: the past and present here for the licking.Sweat is water too,for the hungry, and any past will do. Parched mouths kiss just as well as…
|
116143
|
He called himself Theodore Birdwhistle.
|
116110
|
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.
|
116021
|
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.
|
116000
|
The smell of your chest, and the taste of your lips
as they touch mine
|
116043
|
You always liked the color of your nose, raspberry red. It matched the glittery dazzle of your rainbow hair when the neon lights hit it just right, and man did they always hit it just right, the vibrant honey-yellow big-bird frizz and feathers, swaying to and fro as…
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