1100 1 0
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*a drunk amid worldly boundaries*
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11001110
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"Is a dream a lie if it don't come true, or is…
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110000
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what happens to literature's characters when their readers traverse the veil?
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110000
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Part I I look down at the milk soaked, fabricated, Bits of synthetic nutrition and The feeling comes over me. I race down the highway in my gas guzzling, Smog belching, status symbol and still The feeling overtakes me. I look at my precious offspring, I see…
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110063
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It's good to be home.
It's good to be home.
It's very good to be home
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110000
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I remember this shot taken of you in a bright blue summer dress, with your arms spread out, leaning against a wood fence near the beach, or by Lincoln Park maybe, your thin body leaning back and long blonde hair down bare arms. Other men will remember h
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110000
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I can't show you the territory- not quite yet, not how I see it. But I do have a map, a glorious and vain construction. It gives you a glimpse, a sight. I wish you could see it all.
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109995
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The sinuous river of your childhood. Do you remember how it slid between your young legs before winding away, making its lively and bubbly sounds. You would have made it light-headed with your games and screams. When you lingered late in the afternoon after school, and you…
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109900
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Whose soul do you have, now? (How many are you?) There are several around here running from death, laughing, whom you might know.
I burned ahead, with life. I found my own haughtiness had little bearing on the unbraided thread of pleasure (when I wa
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109930
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Now how do you feel about that,
My future graverobber friend?
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109922
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Here is a blank space soft and white like paper extended indefinitely.
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1099102
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Boy, it is weird out there, talking to real people!
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109941
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to accomodate my 250 lb. dog
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109921
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A reddening? A certain swelling, a little passion among them, is there? What lips would not have given what they could, to speak more boldly, more fondly of you now? But now the country is fastened to arrogance, welded to it in an evil way, wanton with violent…
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109941
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Was it only for the vast dance of the darling soul, that you were born? Not to give up your genetics? Made for the use of the future, were you? I should have known. I heard the wind that swirled within you, even then, when we were so young.
You were
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109841
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Eugene O'Neill is remembered as a troubled, brooding artist, but he had grown up in the theatre and was a hustler for the business of himself as well.
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109821
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Off of the northeastern coastline there was a series of islands that won bread and butter through fishing. We walked off the ferry and through various docks while noticing vessels come in slowly boasting sides protected by worn plastic fenders on ropes affixed to…
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109831
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I thought I saw you once
When you were still quite young
Surveying great beauty
Like a rain shower in the sun
And I can still hear them nearby
Those sharp voices of our youth
Shouting with pleasure in the fields
While looking at the sky
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10981010
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He steered to the roadside and answered her question before she could ask.
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109843
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in the chicken house
this morning. The second
one this week. I carry the stiff hen
out to the back pasture
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109852
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like a reflection vanishes
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109840
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Two girls in vests hogtied his ankles and wrists with a severed lamp cord and barbed wire, spun him dizzy around the room.
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109831
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On-air personalities inflate a balloon Trump head to the point of bursting.
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109833
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It started with crows. I'd walk the switchback trail to the top of the park with its outlook of the city and if I didn't see any crows I'd whistle and they'd come swarming from everywhere. I'd give the peanuts a toss and the crows would caw their heads off and peck at…
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109800
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There's a boarded up Chevron a few blocks down the street from where I used to live. I still pass it every now and again as I'm going to and from jobs. When I lived in the area, which was about three years ago, there was this one red-headed female gas jockey that seemed to…
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109731
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The faint stars began to twinkle in the orange and purple sky and the clouds turned to watercolor and the window became a painting.
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109700
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Sunday nights weren't massive.
They were Sunday mornings that remained.
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109743
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On the phone I asked my mother how she was doing.
“I’m getting old,” she said. “Going slow. But getting there. I’m ninety-four!”
My mother was always 94, when she was really 93. I remember she was 93, right after she turned 92. And 92 when she was
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109721
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From the opening bars that conjure up the sounds of European auto horns, "Parisian Thoroughfare" is as light as French pastry, as free and airy as a skirt blown by the wind.
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109721
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A couple, an unlikely match, came together for a brief interlude of time. It was marked, almost a kind of bar code; beginning, middle and almost end. Almost end was not "the" end because it was seemingly fated that they continue the journey through life, if not together, at…
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