1143 1 1
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The tuna fish sandwiches were laid out the way they had always been; they were cut into triangles, with wet paper towels between them. They stayed that way over an hour, untouched, aside from a dimple the size of my cousins finger to test the softness. …
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114333
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“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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114242
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Here in this land of cannabis...
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114200
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“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…
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114200
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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
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114222
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We’re safe as houses/
and unmoved. We grow/
accustomed to the sound
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114200
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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.
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114200
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I never thought that I would be
here
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114200
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Bloggers venomously characterized Mitt as a "bumper sticker Patriot", the kind of coward who wraps himself up in a flag, puts a bumper sticker on his car, sings the national anthem at the top of his lungs and is the first person to yell out "Freedome Isnt
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114200
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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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114200
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The coffee cup was still full. Black hot steaming smoke signals climbed toward the ceiling, like blowing soot out of dirty bagpipe lungs. The mug exhaled constant and slow like the Fall, until room temperature crept from the handle around…
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114210
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Watch the moon hang with methough miles and miles apart.Over sea and rock and railwaysforever in my heart.
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114242
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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
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114242
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114121
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Let’s just say I’m pissed. Indignant. Angry about living in a universe that appears to be utterly amoral.
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114110
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I leave you because
you violently told me to,
I still love you because
I told you I always would.
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114111
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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…
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114111
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As you can see, egotism forms at a young age for people who end up in this industry.
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114141
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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
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114100
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Ben did not respond, but sat staring lizard-eyed at the shattered remains of his glorious musical instrument.
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114187
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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…
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114055
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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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114033
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I am an animal on display in an old fashioned zoo - trapped & violent, violent, violent
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114044
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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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114033
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“the calendar of my future was in there!”/
yes: all tomorrows belong to the dead cats,/
their decisions relinquish one day per day.
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114000
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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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114098
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What will become/
of the resource-sucking poor
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114022
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The fine blond hairs lift slightly along the skin of your arms
As you nod, listening to him. The veins
On your arms standing up as well
I was caught in an off moment because of your skin
Because of the way moisture beads up on it
The youthful fi
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114011
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the rain on the windowhammers out a symphonyfor ninety Underwoodsand oh what a savage performanceit does take to soothe this beast
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114021
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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 …
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