995 4 4
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Hanging out at the
Imaginary Friends Café
with all my imaginary friends,
poets, itinerant musicians, etc.
Writing close to nothing.
Can’t finish a thought,
so I’m composing a book called
“Not Quite Haiku,”
which is unfini
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99511
|
A man stared out a window,
only to see a passing train.
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99511
|
It all had to begin somewhere; some moment of time and space which arose in perfection- and dissolved into the now. It was a beginning he couldn't quite remember, couldn't grasp onto- it simply sifted through his fingers, sand floating away with the wind. That's not to say…
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99556
|
It all felt so tentative, he thought. The whole set up. Running water. Electricity. A vast network of instant communication. Food in all the stores. It was the latter that gave him the most concern. He'd never really been hungry. Even in his poorest days, in his early…
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99511
|
Patio Joe, 55 and constantly smelling of swill, got his name because he sold and stocked patio furniture at the neighborhood Kmart. With his pockets full of dusty rags and crushed Old Golds, he'd daydream about check out girls.But I suppose you'd have to call them check out…
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99530
|
I prowl. You prowl. We all prowl.
|
99500
|
TimeDoesnt existWe're told it existThe sun rises and fallAnd people exist for the eight Hour dayBut time does not existHuman beings put TIME in their lives To give it order Most people always seem to be looking for order!!Amidst the chaosIt goes very fast for someVery slow…
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99512
|
and I saw this man mopping a floor. He did not look like a monk, and he was smiling at something I could not see. You would not find me and I was beautiful. You would not find me and you closed that memory. I thought that was unfair and maybe it…
|
99555
|
with binoculars
neighbor reads
screen text:
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99500
|
you are in Faulkner’s dream -a lost pilgrim in cheap shoes
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99520
|
Gee but it’s great after being out late,
Walking my lobster back home.
There’s little risk that she’ll turn into bisque,
Walking my lobster back home.
|
99410
|
I leave you because
you violently told me to,
I still love you because
I told you I always would.
|
99454
|
"Tell me what you remember."
|
99421
|
He cut the heads off, and in doing this, their eyes came off. He placed the four discs on the windowsill next to the petrified avocado pit and Chia Pet clay shell. The eyes glittered like globs of jam.
|
99411
|
|
99410
|
Some things are said.
Others, never.
|
99400
|
I am always impressed with your intelligence.
I love watches. I'm not interested in time.
I am well read so talking to myself can be fun.
|
99421
|
Did you ever have a morning when you just did not want to wake up? Sleep can be marvelous, but dreams not so much. If you believe, here is a tale. "She was awakened by the mushing of her pillow around where her head lay squarely on it. It was not violent,
|
99474
|
Life is meagre with me; I am unsatisfied and left always begging for __________.
|
99443
|
In September she had been wise.
|
99400
|
Every retailer within my five mile containment zone is consumed with my convenience. It is incredibly comforting, this suburban fixation with access, proximity, speed, and ubiquity. If Marx were hanging out in American subdivisions today, he would likely
|
99322
|
Pick, pick, pick. Scabrous flesh comes off. Goes into mouth. Picking like a drone. This is my leg. It tastes a little salty. Iron apparent. Partner sits across the room, on his laptop, begging. I can't stop widening the pit. Partner goes to kitchen, eats…
|
99321
|
I know I was hungry. I was hungry for what you had to offer, your fast cars, your dad’s ski boat, your beautiful mouth and its pretty words, your Bohemian eyes and yes, for the joy you could give me between the legs.
But I was unprepared for the lif
|
99332
|
What I wanted was to rewind the film
|
99342
|
First, he wrote it in a patch of new, wet cement one night at the intersection, for everyone to see, “Tad Loves Kimberley.” Maybe they were still in high school, or one of them worked at the café on the corner, and the other at the ice cream shop. Then
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99321
|
|
99340
|
The boy had decided he needed to sell his music equipment—the p.a. system, his amp, his compact organ. His band had broken up and wasn’t going to get back together. He was leaving town at the end of the summer, to where exactly he didn’t know yet.
|
99200
|
Morning. A hot bright sun shines down on the cool dark depths of the deep blue sea.
|
99200
|
Being forced to spend blood money on libations isn't stoic.
It's shitty.
|
99220
|
The longer this goes on the worse it gets.
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