1087 15 8
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10871310
|
By the end of my Saturday night shift at the Oyster Bar I look like some kind of filthy nurse
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108742
|
To be free of pain. Is that what we all want?
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108621
|
As the patter of our passing feet fades.
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108600
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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…
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108631
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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
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108600
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(...) 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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108643
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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…
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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”) …
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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 ...
|
1086105
|
|
1086136
|
A murder of bunnies
nibble the St. Augustine,
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108600
|
Ben did not respond, but sat staring lizard-eyed at the shattered remains of his glorious musical instrument.
|
108500
|
Morning. A hot bright sun shines down on the cool dark depths of the deep blue sea.
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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…
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108531
|
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…
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108597
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He remembers his father’s concrete slab hands. Balled into fists they resembled kettlebells.
|
108500
|
The windows aren't open because they are closed for winter, but Cha doesn't care. She stares through them while I stare at her.
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108500
|
“Isril, I won't lose dis child tuh hunger,” Mina said as she rocked her young son to sleep. Noah sat on her lap, head on her chest, and exhaled a plaintive moan that grew softer and softer with…
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108500
|
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…
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108585
|
Yes sir, I confess there have been timeswhen I did not care how young the earth isor take pride in how she sprang back to greenregardless of how hard the snow fought.There have been times, yes, when I lacked the willto notice such things and knew that belowthe water's…
|
108575
|
No CNN to sing obliteration,/
only Pliny the Younger/
to scratch what fell
|
108546
|
Some things stay with you. I got off the bus, petted my dog, Nick and walked in our house and saw Mother at the kitchen table, crying and clearly angry. I asked her if she was sick. She works. She said that she didn't go to work today and might not go tomorrow…
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108532
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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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108444
|
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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108422
|
We’re safe as houses/
and unmoved. We grow/
accustomed to the sound
|
108400
|
Love is music
timed in heartbeat
move to rhythms ages old
|
108444
|
So the subtle shadow settles onto perfect marble
on the floor of the ocean
when the sunlight blooms over space and time
but only in the near future
as it has always been
|
108497
|
No one believed me when I told them this: I took all of my novels and tossed them into the fire.
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