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It's awfulYou remember everythingYou never forgetEvery insultEvery bruiseEvery scarEvery burnEvery nickEvery blow You never forgetI never forget The pain of memoryYou think you forgetBut you never forgetThe dread of some wholly misfortuneThe pain that left you…
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1106129
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The murder of two teens late one humid night on a tiny rural Virginia island brings a dark, malignant mystery edging into the village known as Leicester Court House.
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110622
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Heading for the fields one morning to paint haystacks, Vincent noticed his neighbor’s house ablaze.
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110641
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Her heart is the color of fuck. Not the color she'd imagined; the soft pink of parting lips, the fading hand print on steamed—up windows, like Leo and Kate in that fancy car the night it sank. His car was a dented jeep…
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11061310
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By the end of my Saturday night shift at the Oyster Bar I look like some kind of filthy nurse
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110634
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We once saw giants in the clouds and in/
connected points of stars, and named/
them, gods. We placed them in their high-halled villas,/
on the mountaintop, to game and frolic
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110642
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I feel I am, in fact,/
the dimmest and least wise/
man on earth.
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110653
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Most of life, it
turns out,
is pathetic.
Very little is funny.
We have to generate our
own laughter.
Canned laughter
may have to do.
Even if we have to carry
the can around our neck
like a Saint Bernard
or strapped to our
hip
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110521
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Balls excite our interest because we live on a ball. We travel through space on a ball.
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110560
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As unlikely as it may seem, John Coltrane was in fact a member of the U.S. Navy Band in 1947 in Honolulu.
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110500
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The sexuality comes over us in waves. We need to hold things, someone. The women, the men, side by side, our features blending together. We notice the small curved lines at the corners of the mouth. We notice everything. And the animal is still inside m
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110533
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in a complete rage he lifted his entire golf bag full of clubs over his head and threw them into the creek.
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110544
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I was at the bend in the road
thinking of Robert Frost
but there was no fork,
there was no yellow wood,
there wasn’t even a horse
to ask me why or what if
There was no decision to be made
just a thousand tourists from Prague
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110543
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Jimi, Jim, and Janis
Kurt and Amy too
They died and gone to heaven
And fit inside a shoe
Room 114’s where they lie
Their eyes wide open
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110598
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She'd had every reason to believe he'd be difficult, though he wasn't.
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110500
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It could be there is a little me, somewhere, truth be known. One time in Laguna Beach I slept with a girl I met at this café, the Jolly Roger, I think, when we went back to my apartment and had unprotected sex. She said she was on the pill, but you neve
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110531
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He consumed the key lime pie, while wearing a lime-green sports bra.
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110530
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The concrete guy’s truck is parked in front of your house. There’s nothing for him to be doing there except your wife.
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110500
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I know you want to hold me. I won't break. I love you. Your hands - when they caress me are soft and gentle. My words speak only to you. They speak of love and of how we spend…
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110520
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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.
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110551
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1105105
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1105136
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A murder of bunnies
nibble the St. Augustine,
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110500
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Cold hurts at first, but you wake up.
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110531
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Watching himself dissolve comes with no sense of meaning. It is simply what it is. He finds that curious.
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110485
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I felt that love could
not be paid for or else could
never be paid for enough.
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110420
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but isn't that the case
in most long-term,
committed
relationships?
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110400
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Bloggers venomously characterized Mitt as a "bumper sticker Patriot", the kind of coward who wraps himself up in a flag, puts a bumper sticker on his car, sings the national anthem at the top of his lungs and is the first person to yell out "Freedome Isnt
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110421
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They called him Hank. We piled in a car and drove up from Irvine to his little bungalow apartment on DeLongpre near Hollywood Blvd. for a collating party for this Mag he started with Neely called “Laugh Literary and Man the Humping Guns.” No shit, that wa
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110442
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(From Postcards fom a Railway Station (final poem)) No lights shine out tonight high hung in heaven: And the constellations like a dead man fall. No sight of polar eyes, whose sons are seven, And I stand unthinking and beyond it all I own it all a…
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