1139 0 0
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This was supposed to be a love letter written by a content writer, then it just got weird.
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113954
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—but night does not reduce me to sleep / the dragging minutes keep awake / the dark that only opens its deep . . .
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113975
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"You wantin' one of them kittens? If we can't give 'em away we're gonna drown 'em. We got too many."
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113931
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The president is truculent today.
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113800
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Dancers, dunces and brides-to-be
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113832
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It started out small: just a cup of coffee, purchased, and an extra one that I gave away.
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113821
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I'll tell you what, Rick,
ten-thousand bucks?
[But] let Detroit go
bankrupt. I'm running
for office for Pete's sake,
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113810
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Hey, can you move over and let me sit down here? In German you would use Raum to mean room, or for an area, a region or something like that. There is another word for “room,” as in a room in a house, but you can't use either of those words to ask someone
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113877
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Looking back now, examining from a distance the sequence of events I failed to connect as anything beyond queer happenstance...
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113821
|
There are people walking,
not knowing where they are,
a way to peace is just that--
a place to go.
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113853
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alone and soaring in your eyesanother new journey for mebegins; my lifewants to make sense ofitself only for you, goingdeeper, hand youthe keys to that kingdom'srare maps and say,here,"fly, dream, fall to love'slake." You deserve it all.I swear…
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113897
|
The summer I was eleven years old....
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113821
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He'd hug us against our wishes when we tried to get a better look at his cart, his odor a mix of sweet and sour and stink.
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113700
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Did I knowingly choose to enter Gloria’s garden and the warm, dark, hollow spaces she offers? Or is it something else that draws me?
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113721
|
She was a rich widow who lived down the street.
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1137148
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Sometimes we hurt ourselves, we scratch ourselves, we bleed — for a simple joy... All I wanted to do was to find the poplar again — the tree of my young arms, of my budding breasts. My fingers used to circle around its bold and vigorous waist, but in the…
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113744
|
What I’ve got is
priceless,
but no one
wants it.
Hmmm.
I wonder if
I can
give it away,
or have to
haul it to the
dump?
What I have is priceless.
Priceless.
What I have
is priceless,
but no one wants it.
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113712
|
shitting out the Mona Lisa.
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113720
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He was that famous actor—now famously forgotten—most renowned for his exits. He could burst through an in or out door with the best of them. Better than the best of them; he was the best of them. With the subtlety of his often noisy art he could…
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113742
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And yes, I may be the goddess of personified flesh, the same little goddess of curled locks, of little sleep, on fire, ablaze. With my sudden weakness, stoppage of breath, pulse cut short, leaving the wrist.
And you of stolen, fraudulent face, troub
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113721
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I had a dream, I remember, where I am in this painting, Luncheon on the Grass. My dress was thrown off and the picnic basket, filled with bread and fruit, is spilled out upon it, and I am sitting nude on my underclothing, with two gentlemen fully dresse
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113721
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You gotta see this new drugdelivered thru a procedurally exacting pill Sugar coated yetcompletely foul tastingDrought drowning and will make you blowfish-cheekedIt creates coincidences with bafflement and symmetry Meaningfully uncertain…
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113743
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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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113701
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The end of love is a rusty barbed-wire fence.
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113732
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You can ask so many questions
Of what’s it all about
You can empty out the closets
And roll the mothballs out
But no one has the answers
It’s all a mystery
There’s a bigger picture
But it’s really hard to see
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113720
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I know our hearts were fastened together in silks in the Chicago night. In the great nurturing night, you were the (real) first. Yoked together, you were the first god to have complete leave of my body, for an hour, for all time, you were the first.
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113720
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“I believe it is some form of primitive recreation with a board and wheels,” the one and a half eyed orange blob said with an Australian accent.
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113620
|
and as in real life,
occasionally
sneezed on.
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113641
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I stood at a workbench for eight hours a day, scraping various shapes and bits of metal fresh from the machinist’s press, plotting my escape.
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113661
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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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