1038 1 0
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You sit brooding at the barOn a Friday nightOn the patio on a Friday nightAnd people try to figure you outI thinkAnd I am so quite andSo tired Too tired to even drive homeDrainedI just need that drink to feel betterAnd I stare off in a hazeWhats wrong?I don't…
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103811
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The lock came off easy—they only screwed a hinged hasp on the outside—it took a hard shove to get past a chair barricading the door. As I pushed my way in I heard a screeching crash. Lucky nobody was around. It was my first time bidding on a sheriff's sale…
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103898
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When they talk, they put their hands
like a cup around their mouth
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103800
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tragically / once upon a time / two people / far away / ...
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103811
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The funk of wet wool, stinky feet, reeking armpits, stale beer and fried food created a bohemian fetor.
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103784
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I now felt prepared to waltz under a K bullet that hits a stucco brick above the tropical hibiscus.
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103762
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The Keds-stubbed grass, toy trucks without wheels, and Band-aids threaded in the sand… Most parenting is vigilance. Seconds ahead of its own sound, a passenger jet spears the heights not far above the treetops, …
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103721
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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.
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103731
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“‘Dial Back the Snark’ is an attempt to fight the cynicism that’s corroding America’s social fabric,” Myers says, mixing his metaphors. “It’s spreading like wildfire."
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103700
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He repeated Honey, I miss you. He could be cruel. He let their son chase his kite for hours in the park while he sat between two tourists on their way out of the city just last week. He could hear her now, running a bath for herself, forgetting John's Apple Jacks before…
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1037126
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The brown grackle chirps/
as she chomps a plump cricket-/
melodious meal.
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103712
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I haven’t written a poem in months.
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103711
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George didn’t move when Cindy punched him in the nose. He just stood
up and walked to the fridge, poured a glass of water and dropped a few
ice cubes into the glass. The ice cracked in the glass as he walked
back to the couch.
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103761
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I remember distinctly the first time I saw Lynda. She was not a stunning-looking girl by any stretch of the imagination. She was short, with naturally blond Swedish hair that she wore in a long ponytail that dropped down her back. It was freezing outs
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103710
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103674
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not in the interest of verisimilitude/
for there's plenty of that in each day already/
as trajectories interrupt other trajectories
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103600
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In the switched-off
time
of day's blackest
rest-
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103654
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103601
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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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103600
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103631
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The past follows, battered, bruised, always behind
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103611
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My friend and I were talking while having burritos (some days, it is as if all we ever eat are burritos, existentially speaking) and I was looking at the way he inserted that shaft of meat in his mouth and thought him prodigious for his technique
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10361110
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It was a cruel question, coming on breath that stank of the grave.
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103622
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...though in reality it is a dirty white with brown splotches now appears to him as a fluorescent green garden snake.
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103641
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You will know the country for fences, for feces, for cows, or,
You will know the country for the smell of hay and manure blowing over the hills to you.
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103600
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I'm feeling almost better than you know A little bit better than the day before Waking up to a deafening scream Please, please don't hurt me no more Why do I feel like a lost dog? Staring outside the window pane How come I become dark? When the clouds begin to rain…
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103675
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103621
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Those who have lost at game shows meet each week for mutual support. All is well, until they start disappearing in ways related to their ill-fated appearances as contestants.
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103600
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When Prince Rainier III asked an expert whether there was a literature of Monaco, her research produced only a suggestive ode to a fig and a poem about a fart.
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103500
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You were there at the beginning almost, when I wanted to write about the dead spider I smashed on my bedroom wall, comparing it to the blue/grey smoke of the blown-off fireworks drifting overhead.
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