1140 4 2
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113973
|
No harp now hails, / no wood sings mirth, no good hawk / swoops through the hall, no swift steed / paws dirt in the castle-yard. Woeful death / has emptied earth of an ancient race.
|
113921
|
Let’s just say I’m pissed. Indignant. Angry about living in a universe that appears to be utterly amoral.
|
113900
|
“Our legs are touching. Our legs. Touching. The light from the screen illuminates your eyes. Off and on. Even in night scenes. Maybe it dances in the eyes of other people there too. But I doubt it. Not like…
|
113900
|
Miles from anywhere that mattered, he stood by the side of the road staring at the two-lane highway that outlined the edge of suburbia like a cement fence. Steam rose from the hood of his car as he sat on the ground and waited for the other shoe to drop.
|
113900
|
I never thought that I would be
here
|
113910
|
I leave you because
you violently told me to,
I still love you because
I told you I always would.
|
1139129
|
The sirens didn’t eat the sailors
|
113900
|
I was still on track to be your average American with a six inch dick and a pair of sneakers.
|
113941
|
Bum on a Parisian stoop begging
with his big Jackson Pollack
bare head in the rain
The water running in streaks
all over his brain
Reminding him of a painting
He once thought of
Keep going, you’re coming back
again. Get out of the car wrec
|
113921
|
1. So this is how the Western world ends, with a shrug:Great lanes extinguished of the lamps that yearned Once for tomorrows turnstiled as agog We watch you, Paris, long rejected, burned- If without flame from exiled …
|
113900
|
Ben did not respond, but sat staring lizard-eyed at the shattered remains of his glorious musical instrument.
|
1138206
|
...the bulk of poets are amateurs.
|
113886
|
The damp suspended/
in the air/
in a faint fog/
discourages coagulation.
|
113844
|
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
|
113811
|
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…
|
113898
|
What will become/
of the resource-sucking poor
|
113843
|
a ruminating marsupial? if so,/
I guess I’d be a kangaroo, the cud soured/
and pasted to the tongue . . .
|
113842
|
Some tough young punk with dreadlocks
Was walking down the sidewalk while texting
And got frightened when he was buzzed
By a hummingbird
Saying “oh shit”
He ducked, but then looked all around
To make sure no one saw him
Of course, I wa
|
113887
|
and I revel in the fact. There are other facts at work and play, but I'm hanging out with this one because it is my day off and I'm listening to music and writing poems. I like the bright appearance coming from the bedroom…
|
113742
|
Here in this land of cannabis...
|
113755
|
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…
|
113700
|
At the house one night we were all sitting around at one of those infernal communal meetings that go on into the night full of pot smoke and red wine, when the door was nudged open and a stray dog wandered into the living room. It was a strange coyote-l
|
113733
|
“the calendar of my future was in there!”/
yes: all tomorrows belong to the dead cats,/
their decisions relinquish one day per day.
|
113700
|
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
|
113755
|
"A man's soul or lack of it will be evident with what he can carve upon a white sheet of paper."--Charles BukowskiBone We built a secret road and rolled it into a crumpled ball and pushed it deep into an empty wine bottleAnd dropped it into the laughing ocean for much,…
|
113700
|
Steve Bancroft’s future wife showed up at his door that same night, slamming her hand loudly against the door and shouting for him. “Steve, Steve, wake up. Damn it, come on. You forgot to pick me up at the airport. Who are you in there with? I said wake
|
113711
|
As you can see, egotism forms at a young age for people who end up in this industry.
|
113711
|
Once,
To a crash slumber on my bed, so late,
I learned my pillow could communicate.
As I lay my head of lead at the head of the bed,
My talking pillow said,
"Let me be the foundations for the constructions of your dreams...
|
113700
|
It comes to him in the night. When he's lying there, staring at the ceiling. The shadows dance on the white paint, forming into monsters that get you when you sleep. The moon hangs low in the sky, dancing with the stars in a ballet that lost all movement
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