1057 4 1
|
as if someone had spilled a bag of perfect diamonds on the world.
|
105642
|
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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105600
|
It might have had something to do with the boy’s pet hog, which was hulking, ageless, and liked eating poppy seed muffins
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105601
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When I wake up, I am almost drowning in a sea of styrofoam.
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105632
|
What I wanted was to rewind the film
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105620
|
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.
|
105665
|
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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105601
|
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105697
|
As ghosts, they became lovers. Rodion would strum the Underwood keys like a balalaika. Lizaveta would sing.
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105500
|
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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105542
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At the company luncheon, the dessert course came first. The servers were tense and unresponsive and we knew something was off. After the pudding or mousse came an undressed salad. Several minutes later came dressings — balsamic, ranch — with ladles.…
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1055124
|
Sixteen hundred hens / suffocated / during the collection
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105574
|
no matter where we sit or how we stare— / all parades now march away to one day.
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105510
|
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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105500
|
Oh, wait — loosen the ropes, you say? Sorry. Can't do that.
|
105473
|
No harp now hails, / no wood sings mirth, no good hawk / swoops through the hall, no swift steed / paws dirt in the castle-yard. Woeful death / has emptied earth of an ancient race.
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105410
|
She lay down sideways on the couch with her large breasts spilled out toward my face, as I sat cross-legged on the floor, so that they were more or less right there in my face, and well, you pay attention when tits are hanging out in the open like that. S
|
105430
|
Another hard week
tired but
make the effort
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105410
|
“This is when things pick up with the ‘stuffies,’” says Sergeant Jim Hampy of the Vice Squad. “They lie low during the summer, then come back when cold and flu season starts.”
|
105431
|
He fingered his remaining chips and the usual nervousness tingled at his spine.
|
105400
|
made of meat and born to breed
|
105421
|
It seems a little solipsistic/
but may indeed be evidence of God//
given its mystery and caprice.
|
105322
|
a distinct hardness that translates into solidity, and a lightness that translates into beauty, and I thought I’d find you there,
|
105333
|
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
|
105311
|
A hymn for her
when his head
cocks shameless.
|
105310
|
She came out to Laguna Beach one time, and we saw each other at this party and she asked if I wanted to “ball,” as she put it. Yes, I said immediately, because I was famished and really wanted a lot of sex because I had just finished a three month project
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105310
|
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…
|
105363
|
It's good to be home.
It's good to be home.
It's very good to be home
|
105320
|
Edwin was the last thing I bought. With his uneven eyes and curious leg stumps, he was a must-have. When I showed Edwin to my housemates he was hugged many times, and praised as though he was real. Knowing my housemates, Edwin may have saved some lives…
|
105200
|
It was Christmas Eve. Time for the ghost to visit. Just one ghost in this story. The ghost of a Christmas past. Just one Christmas for just one ghost.He looked out the window. Under the distant streetlight the snow was falling. He turned on his porch light. …
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