1122 0 0
|
....sucking my blood
kind of draws the line.
|
112241
|
Shame must search the soul, broken, original, with its primitive juices stirred. Moved until now only by the musk, only the stroll you lived with, the worry, the sorrow, the drama – may I never conceal or recover from it!
Yes, I might beg or steal the
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112100
|
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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112100
|
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.
|
112100
|
"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…
|
112120
|
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,…
|
112100
|
To be fair, I have to say I learned things from Lisa, certain things about sex and how to use my body effectively, to use what I had to the best effect, though it probably would have been true to say that about any girl who might have been the first girl
|
112131
|
Last time I heard from you, you had been smoking crack with a hooker in the doorway of city hall
|
112100
|
Ben did not respond, but sat staring lizard-eyed at the shattered remains of his glorious musical instrument.
|
112100
|
Every retailer within my five mile containment zone is consumed with my convenience. It is incredibly comforting, this suburban fixation with access, proximity, speed, and ubiquity. If Marx were hanging out in American subdivisions today, he would likely
|
112000
|
I never thought that I would be
here
|
112055
|
She’s an old soul who was
scattered to the winds
like a thousand butterflies
and a moth
She has no center
and flits from event to event
and can’t miss out on
a thing, because crikey,
what if she missed something
important?
And the m
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112000
|
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…
|
112000
|
|
111965
|
It was the early 80's My students carried / guns.
|
111923
|
In the beginning there was salt.
God licked the salt and said it was
Good. Then there was light.
And then chocolate.
|
111900
|
I would like to land youLike a paper airplane,Take you home to mom. I like your mom &, sheWants to sleep in the sameBed as me. Call it odd. I give you a head nodin the museum, we speakin code. Call it news.I have the blues. Nobodydoes it like you do, to me,for us, in…
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111997
|
As ghosts, they became lovers. Rodion would strum the Underwood keys like a balalaika. Lizaveta would sing.
|
111987
|
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…
|
1118206
|
...the bulk of poets are amateurs.
|
111800
|
Hello, I am Enè Ioh, I have come to to tell you a story that takes place within the place. I start at the place; I go to the place. Here we are, at the place. I am now at the place. I know what I say is of no consequence and I will be killed for it. It means so…
|
111842
|
The Pope is too busy shopping for clothes to control your brain.
|
111844
|
A short sonnet for my sweetheart's birthday.
|
111844
|
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
|
111800
|
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.
|
111810
|
If you were a painter,
and I a poet,
we could have conversations
about Picasso and Bukowski,
and how neither one
took a sober breath.
|
1118135
|
My sacred boxes contained this information.
|
111846
|
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…
|
111811
|
A horn blared behind him. Dan put his Corrola into drive, and began inching forward. Something colorful passed on his left and abruptly pulled in front of him. He slammed the brakes, nearly ramming into a bubblegum pink three-wheeled motorcycle command
|
111832
|
“Your family, that family is crazy, everyone of them hush hush, tweet tweet, a little screw loose – or a bird, what kind of bird they got there?”
|
