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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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And now for a word from
Hitler’s Younger Brother, the Mohel
Well, half brother really
He was always such an embarrassment to the Hitler family
Always climbing the infinite tree of hope
Against the permanent limb of gravity
No gratitude or all
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I really think we ought to be drinking
The Wild Virgin again
I remember having a beer once
And feeling like a minor god, yes
Just like you did
So, now, listen to me: if she snores all night
That’s one thing
But if she screws the lights out
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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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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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Remove with care, then slowly lay the string, wide well-soaked end at left-hand edge, to start, and allow to curve, to bend, to almost loop and wind its way at rest across the mottled, patterned green
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But it was one of those odd moments in America when you get to see the opposite sex with most of their clothes off, other than at a swimming pool in the summertime.
One thing led to another and she wheedled out of me the fact that I drove a very fast ’
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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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Every year at the orphanage, a new trend sprouted fully grown from a Sears Christmas catalog, and even though our belief in Santa Claus was dashed early on, we still loved the season because it meant a Paint by Number, Pogo stick, Hula Hoop or whatever…
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1227 2 1
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I remember the first time you made love to me. It appears I was one of the lucky ones … it wasn’t in a car, it wasn’t in your Dad’s boat, underwater, or any other weird place you've written about. It was actually in your bedroom … in a bed!
And how
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Tough shit if it looks like shit I heard that voice say as I reviewed my blog...How ya gonna fix it, stop and see every time ya write a line? Well FUCK YOU anyway! That's what my A.D.D. said - WOW! DID YOU SEE THAT?! - as it perched upon one shoulder, overlooking…
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I haven’t written a poem in months.
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He called himself Theodore Birdwhistle.
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Nostalgia is
when memories
turn into Gods
of knowing who you were.
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The sun was bright, warm and blew through my hair like the wind.
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Before you start reading this it is important that you understand that I know nothing about the evolution of horses or camels. I mean, I literally know zilch about which came first or if they are even part of the same family. In my head I imagine one of those charts…
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She was a rich widow who lived down the street.
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With a notch in his ear from an honor-mad fight
And a tail that is shorter than at last sunlight.
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You had that quietness by nature (unusual in men) that I was attracted to. You were like some body of water, wide and more spiritual than anyone I knew. You could have taken me with you when you flew. I know you were more like a bird than any of the oth
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1226 2 3
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A nice girl is like powder, quick to anger, fresh, impudent, too quick to know what expletives fate speaks. It was a cold year for trash talk and sheer silk. And yes, the fox was smoking, who could attract or irritate a nice girl with the same look, a wom
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My father did not die before I was born. That much I can cite as not only fact but an absolute necessity to my existence. However, my father is dead. You can wrap as much sentiment and emotion around it as you wish, but you can't get away from the blunt…
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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.
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We were so easy, so willing to be drained, that to start making those puffed-up stories about us now, our courage, etc. would be purely misleading. Put a bottle, or glass of wine in our hand, and our panties flew off, and gladly we would have followed y
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Questions unanswered proliferate/
across the April sky, blue//
with wisps of cirrus white.
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The Party and the Body The party at my mother's ended Saturday night deep into Sunday's morning. I tried to remember the exact circumstances of the end but although they wouldn't come it didn't worry me. I knew I would remember at a certain point. It…
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"You think life is supposed to be easy? Whoever told you that? My life is anything but easy; still you don't hear me whining all over the place. And, trust me, I could teach you a thing or two about suffering.
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Because of her I got there early, and like I figured, the train was late.
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"The shipyards of the soul do not exist." The Colussus has always been a colossal waste, and the riddle of Your Father's Identity confounds no one but yourself. What a riddle, what pills! He was known for…
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