1091 5 5
|
Wait for it. It's not the end of the world, it's the end of certain things. It's not that the sky is falling, it's that the coral reefs are dead or dying. I don't know how the ravaged trees have managed to survive this long with us breathing…
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1091127
|
“Hrrumph!” was almost audible as she turned/
to sniff behind the chifferobe for fresh/
green trophies.
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109100
|
Her through the phone line, a pause, a hold in her voice. Mom. The things we miss as adults, the turns of phrase, the little pauses. The in between of conversations are opportunities are avenues, five lane highways where we can be…
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109100
|
made of meat and born to breed
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109185
|
The next/
may be the lucky one,/
undiscovered all these years.
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1091155
|
The trio stuffed their grilling equipment in a battered van and left for Dixieland Speedway at 4:30 am.
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109100
|
Subways are silver
Taxis are yellow and
Trees are green.
|
109122
|
The space they are in is years long.
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109022
|
a distinct hardness that translates into solidity, and a lightness that translates into beauty, and I thought I’d find you there,
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109022
|
“Oh, where are you going to, O tow-haired rover?” Though my sight turns nowhere homeward, and my mouth's run numb, I can hear a leaflet sifting through the walls of clover; Though I stay, I ‘m going forth and o'er to Camelot, come- On a four…
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109033
|
You may want to know
who wrote the book of love, but
all I really want to know is who,
who sprayed the dinosaurs with graffiti?
Not some poser
Not some Svengali
Not some last minute
giraffe
Not someone from the all girl’s band
kn
|
10901510
|
Once a psychologist told me a story
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109010
|
I’m walking funny but only comedians notice.
|
108911
|
A hymn for her
when his head
cocks shameless.
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108900
|
Besotted by an overload of scotch, Ben’s brain barely alerted him to loud knocking at his door.
|
108993
|
Can anyone remember what the Great American dream was?
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108933
|
I’m living at the Edge of Graffiti
And yet I still survive
Because I walked across the line
Separating me from the rest of mankind
You can see me out here
I’m in so much pain
All that’s written on my face
I think it’s pretty plain
|
108900
|
It's late it's early love youfuck me the difference isin the garage boxes sitbehind me in the trunklike passengers beside melike pedestrians in frontof me I choose our directionwhat stays what comes whatis what and how did I end upin the garage in the first placein the…
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108921
|
It seems a little solipsistic/
but may indeed be evidence of God//
given its mystery and caprice.
|
108942
|
Wound up taking smiling lessons
Six days in a row
But they didn’t take
All the people in my class
They were so fake
|
108811
|
a poem that unwrapped itself so casually I tucked it under my tongue, just to make sure
|
108863
|
c'mon honey let's go get stoned
the night is falling
where did you say we were going?
|
108882
|
With furrowed brow, he took the plastic stems and began to beat the blossom ends
against the black brick wall.
|
108821
|
The moon has a cloud pass before it. The strop has a razor pulled up-and-down, up-and-down, up and down against it.
|
108810
|
She's a woman who travels often. Maybe for work. Maybe for mischief. She's a "free spirit" trapped by her desire for love. But she numbs it with the warmth of a new man's touch. She leaves herself reminders that often fail her or remain inconsistent. She wants to…
|
108854
|
In an area of high winds
and strong convictions, I have
lived among the ever-changing crowd
that is always the same.
I must have died overnight,
and now my wings are
flapping in my own face.
I used to be an owl,
a night owl, to be sure
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108843
|
Let's go now with those precisely marching shiny cloud band members, so eagerly clanging their golden sleeves togetherover there in the valley of new light, for instance. They can lift wholeoceans up, like baby children, for a seriesof smooches, all of…
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108742
|
From 'Excelsior' (fifth section) - a poem in 9 parts. So this is what begins at thirty? Thirty-five, And waiting. Those make love with water mildly, they That sink and skim the tide's meridian fingers: Brown swans that bob the blue orb's plumbing sheer. So this has…
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108723
|
Robot telephones me today...
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108786
|
The cicadas struck their soundsTheir ribs made a clicking drumThe sound was formed over buckling ribsvibrations sounds like a maracas bangle beatingShe sat up in a lounge chair trying to sleepThe tiny ants she found tickling her armThey crawled from some hole…
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