1087 5 4
|
seriously: let defendants choose their coin, / execute their own calls, make their own coin flips― / attentive referee, no need for a court.
|
108733
|
“Hey! You can’t be
whistling on Greyhound,”
the bus driver said,
looking up
in the rearview mirror.
|
108797
|
It's not that there's nothing new, it's all new. That blue color is not the one you remember, but the one you are experiencing, and at the same time, you bring everything you are, crushing into dust, with you. Green…
|
108700
|
Have you ever Felt As if you were Alone In the world?
|
108798
|
What will become/
of the resource-sucking poor
|
108722
|
He inhaled the spears of aroma...
|
108730
|
“Hello, I’m Marlene, and this is April,” says the older of two women. Both Marlene and April wear ankle length dresses. The name Hester Prynne flashes through my mind.
|
108711
|
In 1609 Ben Jonson was hired to write a work in celebration of the opening of a new shopping mall.
|
108700
|
Clarissa kept bringing up a particular subject in counseling. It seems two years before her affair, she had accused Jon of being attracted to her friend Steph. The evidence that led Clarissa to this conclusion, started at an office Christmas party. Steph reached…
|
108742
|
To be free of pain. Is that what we all want?
|
108744
|
Well, I walked in on you, then you walked out on me
And that was when it happened – the end of history
And that should have been sufficient
But I think you know it wasn’t
I remember it was you who told me
Dreams are only efficient when illusio
|
108700
|
This girl had burn scars on her body which hurt a little, to be touched, so we had to be real careful, gentle. I turned her over slowly so as not to shatter her. She wanted to be fucked, badly. But only one time. It was enough to be handled again like bef
|
108751
|
the Coke made his butt leak blood
|
1086129
|
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.
|
108600
|
Weeds, schist, an Artesian well: élan in a heavenly forge. Sniffling goats, a mossy cairn. A portal divides the void. There is a human hand here below the crumbling parapet. The crotch of time A bridge between…
|
108610
|
Shit, I guess I'm gonna hafta
|
108698
|
She'd had every reason to believe he'd be difficult, though he wasn't.
|
108643
|
I stroll out to the front lawn, and find myself against the sea of grass, painted daubs within the frame of a distilled rock. My ears attuned to the starlets warbling on the twisted branches of the lone tree, flock of wings that find subtlety and shine in the rapture…
|
1086148
|
A.The poem of rational progression is dulling.Make the leap. Go beyond juxtaposition to collision.We like poetry that does double duty, triple duty, quadruple duty. We like poetry that mixes the grit, poetry that has the texture of complexity.Reason asserts an…
|
108632
|
When Roy had seen the first of the movies in his dorm's weekend double feature that night (the University of Maine at Orono — as Stephen king once quipped, “that crossword-puzzle favorite”) …
|
108600
|
"Come into my face." said Duras famously as she neared death. This is very beautiful. If one takes Duras to speak of something akin to the 'face' as given us by Levinas, and we may display this face here as something like an Husserlian universal…
|
108630
|
I prowl. You prowl. We all prowl.
|
108643
|
On the way to
The Museum of Inner Light
Expect delays
Expect bumps in the road
Expect potholes and such
Expect a murder of crows
Rolling acorns over the rooftops
But what I want to know is who
Who eats a butterfly
On the way to
|
108600
|
First of all, you should know an unstoppable fire made my panties roar for you. Maybe you will come to understand what effect you had on my life, my whole life, I mean. You should know the effect you had on people. Me, and Sharon too, both. And I’m sure
|
108610
|
The north street was always a mean part of Port Neches. Too far up for oil company patrols ...
|
108642
|
(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…
|
108521
|
As the patter of our passing feet fades.
|
108520
|
Apparently we must endure them forever, the gods. My willingness to live among them, and love, with their high-pitched voices. To endure or be endured equally, each one of the Fates, each one of the high hearers stammering out the certainty of their lov
|
108532
|
|
108500
|
Dave Sharpe silently pulled his desk chair out of its nook that was conveniently placed underneath his desk. He took a deep breath as he slowly took his place in the seat and nudged it into a perfect…
|
