1082 4 3
|
What if it was all cut and calculated.
|
108100
|
Check the sweet lunar springs that we are still bathing in. The swelling in the genitals there. Check to make sure we are ripe, and in season. It’s our way of being willing, strong under the sweet icy waters, with that fertility that is derived from you
|
108111
|
a poem that unwrapped itself so casually I tucked it under my tongue, just to make sure
|
108163
|
|
108130
|
The little butterfly struggled against the wind. As little butterflies sometimes do. Tossed and turned around by relentless, uncaring gusts. The little butterfly would make progress, but then be pushed back. Tantalizing close to where she was heading. A…
|
108133
|
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
|
108133
|
“the calendar of my future was in there!”/
yes: all tomorrows belong to the dead cats,/
their decisions relinquish one day per day.
|
108111
|
“I come from a long line of Toad Kings,” Huckleberry said, “and we never back down from a bet.”Phyllis, a great white heron, lowered her long white neck so she could get a better look into her friend's golden eyes.“I just think you…
|
108131
|
He fingered his remaining chips and the usual nervousness tingled at his spine.
|
108165
|
Donna and I get out of the car...
|
108100
|
If you don't want to die, go fetch me a pie
|
108110
|
Michael had become quite accustomed to his morning routine. He woke at seven, made his coffee, and stepped onto the front porch with a steaming cup and a fresh cigarette.
He sat there for ten minutes or so, watching the neighborhood prepare for their d
|
108144
|
peripheral dreams fall out from the head / the body squirms then burrows abed: /
“have you had a good life? you now have less! / —led a hard life instead? you soon will be gone!”
|
108082
|
With furrowed brow, he took the plastic stems and began to beat the blossom ends
against the black brick wall.
|
108011
|
A hymn for her
when his head
cocks shameless.
|
108044
|
Now your dreams are
headed for the Rhyme or Reason
Convention
where they try to convince you
you can do this
Trying to make sense of
everything
|
108054
|
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
|
108021
|
It seems a little solipsistic/
but may indeed be evidence of God//
given its mystery and caprice.
|
108053
|
the continuous racket, a buzz saw trumpet
|
107933
|
my heartis a brokenstandpipefanningcity water cayenneacross sidewalksgutters ripple redover fast food bagsand cigarette buttsover the feetof priests and pit bullsover the handsof drunksand babiesand into the mouthsof ratsand raconteurs you never oughtadrink…
|
107933
|
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
|
107965
|
What I had liked about Harvard before it showed itself in psychocareerist TV appearances and lid-down disingenuous printed psychotopical drills for maintaining crass privilege was the description online of its linguistics department.
|
107910
|
I’m walking funny but only comedians notice.
|
107921
|
And then, one fateful day, the world ran out of ideas. The last one was gone, floating away like a balloon full of the helium we had already squandered.
|
107842
|
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…
|
107800
|
If the little buildings had hair the hair was as if sleeked back some and also flaxen from the sun. Men walked past there and of course women also all in the requisite wear of the world. We dashed felt pens on curb-sides writing our names in the world and way in behind…
|
107800
|
She hears me, acknowledges me. She knows I’m bound each day, unable to make my voice heard. “It’s regrettable,” she mumbles...
|
107842
|
Above the chasm of life burn two fires
at either side of the framed painting that
stands on the pink and red plain. And inside
the painting itself an orange rain falls,
accumulating in a sea of red. Rocks can’t stand
their small shadows anymore
|
107821
|
The small of her back,
where the downy hair stands upright
like wheat in the summer light.
|
107811
|
I move, press my mouth to her ribs and trace
a line between her breasts with one, sticky
fingertip.
She
closes
deep
|
