1093 13 6
|
A murder of bunnies
nibble the St. Augustine,
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109300
|
Ben did not respond, but sat staring lizard-eyed at the shattered remains of his glorious musical instrument.
|
109375
|
“Look them straight in the eye, keep your mouth shut unless spoken to, and make no sudden moves.”
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109200
|
(...) I know my eyes are shut and I’m on the kitchen floor but I see her and I’m not confused. (...)
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1092148
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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…
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109230
|
“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.
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109210
|
The north street was always a mean part of Port Neches. Too far up for oil company patrols ...
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109220
|
Your steering wheel is hot.You don't feel it though, I mean,It tingles some but it doesn't have that crawling, stinging feelingLike the way you'd feel it if they hadn't called.Not the way other people in Arizona feel it.You don't feel you or her or anything in…
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109121
|
As the patter of our passing feet fades.
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109101
|
Her dad regaled me with stories of his up-from-the-bootstraps climb out of poverty on the hard-scrabble, rough-and-tumble Lower East Side of New York, where he founded the leading supplier of hyphens to writers of purple prose.
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109111
|
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…
|
109120
|
I won't ever forget the image of my father, behind the wheel of the Cadillac he so loved. Even as a ten year old, and more as an adult, I could never figure out why he loved that car as much as he did. I must explain that he was really my step father,…
|
109143
|
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
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109198
|
What will become/
of the resource-sucking poor
|
109100
|
I'm the vessel that'll sniff out the wharf's of old,they call me bold for bounding seas,they whispers rumors of my unstable ease,what's a life without vanishing into the falling pink fold,Ululating tides spray brisk bounties of water on board,squabs with new wings…
|
109132
|
I would have given your son to you. I would have had him in a heartbeat. And I would have showed him your inner beauty, even though you were absent. I would have hidden nothing from his nature. I would have given him everything and anything he needed, s
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109020
|
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
|
109043
|
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…
|
109020
|
“Hey, come on and sit down,” Jake motioned to her.
It was three in the morning and after way too many gins the last thing Melisa wanted to do on New Year’s Eve was to chat with her ex-boyfriend. In fact if she had known he was goin
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109097
|
He remembers his father’s concrete slab hands. Balled into fists they resembled kettlebells.
|
109000
|
Have you ever Felt As if you were Alone In the world?
|
109042
|
To be free of pain. Is that what we all want?
|
108900
|
Morning. A hot bright sun shines down on the cool dark depths of the deep blue sea.
|
108900
|
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…
|
108922
|
We’re safe as houses/
and unmoved. We grow/
accustomed to the sound
|
108942
|
It was Saturday morning."The coffee maker is not ready yet," said one of the old men. Like the present company, his form was swollen with mismatched layers of cold weather wear.It was a white room with a dozen men, three couches, and a large screen television flickering…
|
10891315
|
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108931
|
I can still see us sitting, somewhere (was it in a café?) imagining what it would be like if our mutual faces blended into the future (the waiters posing as in a Manet painting.) Putting our bones together, our broad features, Bohemia and Sweden.
Yo
|
108931
|
I am in a war against the literal. I have sewn these words together to make a stand of birch. I wander the earth gathering moon shadows and swords. Kerosene dots punctuate the Dakota night. An apparition of words hops through a calculus problem and falls into a…
|
108964
|
a body lost in thought
stays hopelessly lost in thought
for as long as the latte lasts
and the coffee shop stays open
and the moms don’t gather with their baby carriages
and the bums don’t bum overly much
and the trust funders don’t lose too
|
