1026 0 0
|
she's bent over and reaching into the oven to pour fat over a chicken. I just want to tug those pants down and thrust.
|
102622
|
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 . . .
|
102520
|
We used to find ourselves watching a World War II documentary, but from the periphery of our vision; because our tongues would be swishing against each other, and we’d be breathing each other’s wind; and we wouldn’t be as in to it as we used to but we wou
|
102565
|
Donna and I get out of the car...
|
102531
|
The only thoughts that come are old ones that are so needy they keep circling through for attention
|
1025146
|
|
102575
|
|
102565
|
I can walk among words, Scatter them like birds, to compose two thirds of a poem, when they settle on nearby wires, in an order inspiring wonder. What do they think, when I scatter them asunder. Bring them disarray, Shape them to a…
|
102542
|
“... More weighty than wisdom or wealth is a little folly" (Ecclesiastes)
|
102544
|
"Beauty is an experience, nothing else. It is not a fixed pattern or an arrangement of features. It is something felt, a glow".. --D. H. Lawrence It's not about the lasso. That's so easily dangerous,…
|
102510
|
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
|
102510
|
The pavement was so hot, it burned the souls of my feet. I really thought they would blister, but they rarely did. I would try to walk on the grass, between driveways. Carrying that large bulky box. I would hear the the slap, slap, slap, of some of the other…
|
102444
|
"It goes to infinity and back.That is how much I love you".She looked down into the sandplopped down and made a snow angel,Pushing the mudwith her arm and legs,like windshield wipersof a caron a rainy day"Auntie ... Auntie,How much I love you".
|
102410
|
I am seven and it is in one of those spring stretches where temperatures proceed enough to make walking acceptable if not amicable. Pop cans and chip bags once boasting glossy surfaces and daring hues now faded to match asphalt fields. Other bits of things…
|
102453
|
—but neither Lenin’s serenity nor Voron’s could last for long!
|
1024102
|
Boy, it is weird out there, talking to real people!
|
102421
|
don’t let them take away our youth, even if we have to beat the paint out of birds the way we did when we were young. I knew we could do anything, so let’s go back into that world and describe the new dawn all over again, even if we have to use the frozen
|
102410
|
He leans back in the desk chair in his home office. He clicks on “Inbox” in his Gmail. He spins around in his chair. He clicks on “Inbox” again. As he spins again, he realizes how silly it is to keep clicking “Inbox” when Gmail…
|
102421
|
I was at the doctor’s office
They had a poster of the Mona Lisa
and the caption underneath it read:
“Why is this woman smiling?”
Well, it wasn’t because she was over 50
and had yearly mammograms
It was because she was 20 something
|
102443
|
He dreams again of ocean devoid of shore
|
102441
|
Bum on a Parisian stoop begging
with his big Jackson Pollack
bare head in the rain
The water running in streaks
all over his brain
Reminding him of a painting
He once thought of
Keep going, you’re coming back
again. Get out of the car wrec
|
102444
|
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
|
102474
|
no matter where we sit or how we stare— / all parades now march away to one day.
|
102463
|
In 1997, I was exploring a used bookstore in Camden, New Jersey, when I stumbled across a two-volume hardback copy of The Dictionary of the Khazars by Milorad Pavić, a book I had been meaning to read since it came out in 1984. At $10.00 for the set, I couldn't pass up…
|
102410
|
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.
|
102410
|
|
102421
|
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.
|
102332
|
The early morning temperature was a typo
|
102333
|
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
|
102321
|
The room is cold, like an icy bath. Enough to make Earl's testicles shrivel up in fear. He could hear the angry children outside act out a primeval play, where it sounded like bones were being slammed into rocks with clumsy small hands. The edge of the table…
|
