1067 6 3
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Spring break that year, (1963) I spent nearly every minute with Lynda. Her taste for sex was unquenchable once we’d gotten started. We did it in every position possible. The sitting position in the front seat of the car, which my brother Herb had to expla
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106630
|
- Of or relating to dreams
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106622
|
There is only me and the crooked pavement that leads to your dim tower.
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106643
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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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106631
|
How to remove moon stains from slacks!?
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106610
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The aftermath of a lady's adultery.
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106644
|
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
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106642
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When they first brought me home, I was their pride and joy. Then, one day, they put me in this wooden box.
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106622
|
Happy is a look we are trying to wear better
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106621
|
She was asked: “What would it mean to be in a great earthquake to you?”
She said: “It would mean that I might never see him again.”
Then she panicked. She came to me and said: “Do you mind riding in the other car? I have to ride in the same car wi
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106530
|
I wanted only to be still, to become a rustle for a moment of papery fall leaves sighing past one another on their way to the funeral pyre in the front lawn, sweetly fragrant with the scent of death and inevitable decline, fearless in their annihilation, incandescent…
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106501
|
Of course it’s because she’s been drinking. Will she regret this? I don’t understand it but maybe it is something she has thought about for some time.
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106554
|
Chin beards, flannel shirts, Levis
no boots anymore, just loose sandals
their chicks with double triple multiple chins
falling asleep on their own palms
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106523
|
And you should know, every woman smiles at a man buying flowers, because … we can imagine. We can only hope.
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1065108
|
"I’d rather move a word around a page
than raise a glass or pass a plate
or work a room immune to poetry."
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1065118
|
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1064206
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...the bulk of poets are amateurs.
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106400
|
From the parking lot to the stadiumdown town waiting for the crossinglightthere are a few others in jerseys but not manywe are too early for that.Desert gravel crunching scuffle of canvas shoeskicking granitehop along wobble steps and I turn to seewho's off the…
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106400
|
I was reading The Transmission of Doubt by Adi Da, and since it was just shy of five hundred pages, I had become tired and needed air. It was funny because Eglington Square Mall had only one floor and was more like a mini mall than anything, with a beer store on…
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106433
|
“Can I get apple juice and milk?” “Yes.” “And a chocolate shake?” “Will you finish all that and your food?” “Probably not.” “Still yes. Get whatever you want.” The waitress took the order. Along…
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106453
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A thrum of imminent sentience-
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106485
|
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…
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106494
|
|
106485
|
The next/
may be the lucky one,/
undiscovered all these years.
|
1064105
|
|
106400
|
I was still18 years old when the plane landed in South Korea. It was 10AM, Friday. Stepping off the jet way, it could have been any airport in America. But it wasn't. As soon as we got in the airport we were hustled to Customs. Filled out a bunch of forms. Asked…
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106365
|
It was the early 80's My students carried / guns.
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106300
|
Morning. A hot bright sun shines down on the cool dark depths of the deep blue sea.
|
106355
|
for Melissa together today. I like that feeling. I want to pound a piano into the ground just for you. To your warmest heartbeat I raise my glass. Thank you. It doesn't really matter if they think that's a velvety Elvis…
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106300
|
I will miss you, sure, let it be known. The memory, and the dream, both. That familiar smell of Old Spice when someone wearing it comes near. And the smell of Coppertone Suntan Lotion on the beaches of our youth in Chicago. And the pressure of your fing
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