1097 9 7
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He remembers his father’s concrete slab hands. Balled into fists they resembled kettlebells.
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109742
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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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109700
|
Hold my heart the child in your arms
The roses of April blooming,
I bend down before you cracked and broke
Spilled out like albumin.
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109700
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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
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109600
|
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109622
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We’re safe as houses/
and unmoved. We grow/
accustomed to the sound
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109654
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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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109661
|
You gave me chills on my opposite hip whenever you touched me from behind, when we spooned under the rough woolen blanket in your basement. Whenever your essence touched my life like that. Just like when you said, “You came, that’s all.”
That’s all? T
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109600
|
|
109642
|
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109500
|
“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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10952510
|
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109500
|
The paper
in his typewriter
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109521
|
Owen had never seen his boyfriend cry, but while he was in the bathroom having a cigarette through the open window, he heard Devin sniffling and coughing back tears. A bit shocked, he decided not to confront Devin or acknowledge that he had heard. Italian men could be…
|
109500
|
Love is music
timed in heartbeat
move to rhythms ages old
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109500
|
Clarissa kept bringing up a particular subject in counseling. It seems two years before her affair, she had accused Jon of being attracted to her friend Steph. The evidence that led Clarissa to this conclusion, started at an office Christmas party. Steph reached…
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109543
|
a ruminating marsupial? if so,/
I guess I’d be a kangaroo, the cud soured/
and pasted to the tongue . . .
|
109594
|
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109565
|
That was the year I got my Daisy bee-bee gun for Christmas....
|
109500
|
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
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109521
|
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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109444
|
A short sonnet for my sweetheart's birthday.
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109400
|
In the nights there was a sense of surrounding trouble, a trouble that had no name, but waited there and sometimes it seemed to whisper strange thoughts from the curtains and other times it waited in silence by the closets and corners. It never quite…
|
109410
|
I leave you because
you violently told me to,
I still love you because
I told you I always would.
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109454
|
Both my Nana and my mother have blond hair…as a child I thought most women of European descent tended towards this color, this particular hue of straw, and threads of gold woven together. I had been somewhere as a nine year old, I…
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109400
|
Until the stars form last nightI zoom out with an empty heart.Whose forgiveness forgesseas of overabundance, parksUnder the river's bed as magazine?Jet heavy, my tenses shift in an operation between two frightened doctors. I'm hiding onside: the lines & in the branches…
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109421
|
CALEBHe'd get up every day,don his clothes and tendto rote ablutions. He tried not to think too much.Because he knew what that would bring --the tethers he lost; failed causes,the last lover, who knew some things.Instead, he kept his eyes straight ahead,marked time,…
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109400
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I don't belong. I don't feel privy to grown up conversations, yet I can't relate to teenage expectations. I'm floating on the walkways in another dimension of time. Everybody looks like ghosts functioning in robotic ways. I feel an electric eye following me in my…
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109475
|
No CNN to sing obliteration,/
only Pliny the Younger/
to scratch what fell
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1093206
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...the bulk of poets are amateurs.
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