1086 1 1
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a poem that unwrapped itself so casually I tucked it under my tongue, just to make sure
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108622
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“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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108663
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c'mon honey let's go get stoned
the night is falling
where did you say we were going?
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108632
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When Roy had seen the first of the movies in his dorm's weekend double feature that night (the University of Maine at Orono — as Stephen king once quipped, “that crossword-puzzle favorite”) …
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1086127
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“Hrrumph!” was almost audible as she turned/
to sniff behind the chifferobe for fresh/
green trophies.
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108665
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Donna and I get out of the car...
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108600
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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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108621
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It seems a little solipsistic/
but may indeed be evidence of God//
given its mystery and caprice.
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108520
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Then you came home from your travels and stole her, your new queen, though she was ready. And raped my heart as you entered the new passage to heaven. And I cried out your name on the river, and swam in the warm waters behind you, naming your new name a
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108511
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A hymn for her
when his head
cocks shameless.
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108510
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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…
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108500
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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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108565
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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.
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108553
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the continuous racket, a buzz saw trumpet
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108543
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What if it was all cut and calculated.
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108544
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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!”
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108522
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into the Zone of Avoidance gazes sink/
―and why not? a black hole at the heart of it,/gravity attracts even our vision when/
we lift our gazes . . .
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108465
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I was right to fear the God of my father
He is a monster.
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1084910
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When I got out I didn't buya new suit of clothes, stepinto a bar, or bargainfor an hour with a whore.I walked from McGee Streetover to Russell and wonderedif Bus 16 still went out of its wayto loop around the traffic knotat the shopping mall. It'd drop you thereif you had…
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108433
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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
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108482
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With furrowed brow, he took the plastic stems and began to beat the blossom ends
against the black brick wall.
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108400
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None of them knew the emptiness my bravado covered. I moved through life a pale shadow of a being. In the mornings I was afraid when I went into the bathroom to gaze into the mirror I would find no reflection staring back at me, that I had finally become
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10841510
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Once a psychologist told me a story
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108454
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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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108433
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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
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108464
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Her tits were perfect
But came with a white picket fence
Around them
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108432
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For the kid in me who fell
head over heels
all the way down
the stars,
I wonder where you are
now.
Slack is harder to
cut than
you might think,
I have learned.
And assigning the middle finger its true purpose
keeps me pretty bus
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108410
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I’m walking funny but only comedians notice.
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108342
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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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108386
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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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