1071 1 1
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A hymn for her
when his head
cocks shameless.
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107100
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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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107154
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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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107133
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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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107143
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What if it was all cut and calculated.
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107011
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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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107000
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We went to the woods to escape the failures that suck out your breath.
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107020
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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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107000
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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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107010
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1070155
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The trio stuffed their grilling equipment in a battered van and left for Dixieland Speedway at 4:30 am.
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107044
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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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106930
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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…
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106930
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There was one girl from Ireland, with her thick Irish brogue, who came into my bedroom early on the morning before my final exam for my Master’s degree in the writing program at U.C Irvine. She knew I was so nervous about taking the exam that I hadn’t sle
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106920
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I am skinniest in the morning. My belly forgets the previous day’s sins, and I wake up looking taut like a model. Then it starts.
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106933
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I am not
a Road Scholar,
ladies & gentlemen,
though I’ve been
On the Road
more than once.
Do not mistake me
for a bum.
I am not a hobo,
homeless or otherwise,
in this life
or any other,
I am not a bum,
I insist.
But I d
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106900
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Baby who battles with devils
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106842
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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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106800
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Growing into a new mold, watching our friendships fall into deep deep holes.
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106821
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I'll never forget the way you tasted that last morning that I ever saw you.The blurry eyed look on my face as I searched your bed for my tshirt, and you in a hurry because you were already late for work bending down onto the bed and grabbing my chin the…
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106822
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One night just as I dozed off I was awakened by a circular saw going right next to my head. The coke dealer was working on his deck. His hair was biblically long and he wore a pair of goggles as he worked on his patio utterly oblivious to my presence just
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1068146
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106865
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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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106810
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If you were a painter,
and I a poet,
we could have conversations
about Picasso and Bukowski,
and how neither one
took a sober breath.
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106822
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First they
Dust off the bottom of the sky
But then the clock gets stuck
At 3 seconds till uncertainty
Then they
Dye the sunset clouds
To make them more
Transparent
So as not to confuse
The human mind
With the stuff of uncommon
Nostalgia
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106801
|
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106722
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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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106700
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I have sat aside and entertained the coveted feelings of what was not in my hands. Only briefly, a moment shared of hidden secrets and joy. But of and between us, I cannot say that this moment is a considerable spur-still I desire…
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106700
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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…
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106700
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So this has led again to my hunger over you, the lion of all people, the other I, pertaining to voice, speech, perception. I knew right away how you rose up inside me, how I could fly near your ceiling. Right away could feel the tide, rising and swollen
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