716 7 5
|
|
71600
|
As we entered the circus tent
We passed the big cats' wagon.
A sleeping tiger lay
in what I knew was hay.
|
71674
|
Later, at home, on the internet, I assemble fragments of street celebrations from cities one coast to the other. I watch them and listen in the compressed fidelity of computer speakers. How strangely things feel.
|
71640
|
At my college there were film societies for foreign films, contemporary films, documentary films—you name it. The people who ran these clubs tended to dress in black turtlenecks and wear berets—indoors!
|
71550
|
Maisie dear, I can't forget her--
I only wish her poems were better.
|
71500
|
His father has been talking of finding a man for her, but she would have none of it. The last time he brought a traveler home, under guise of allowing him to rest for the night and have some bread, the boy crept to her room at night and attempted deprive
|
715105
|
|
71552
|
"Benny can't come over anymore."
I was 12.
Latchkey kid, but we didn't call it that.
Mom working in another town.
Dad working in another town.
My brother.
2.
My responsibility.
"Why? Why not?"
|
714102
|
Each day he rolls that goddamned rock,
|
71454
|
they deafen you with cute / knive you with sugared songs / with machines turn love to silicon shit / hurl you at the god Fun / debrain you in their schools.
|
71431
|
Just let there be that self-moving thing, a sweet girl mentioned by innocence in an off moment because of her skin, because of the way rain beads up on it.
|
71410
|
I turned and gaped-
In horror gasped--
There was no clear escape.
Down Winter Street, up Park perhaps?
Too late-she had me in her grasp.
|
71321
|
When people drastically change everything about themselves repeatedly, don't they eventually just end up alienating everyone?
|
71231
|
—Francesco, did you come to bed last night?
|
71232
|
There is an island behind the house in which I grew up. It is a network of bicycle paths and booby traps. The past is snared there.
|
71221
|
In the evening when the sun sinks low and the baths gets drawna tall glass of milk sits slowly spoiling and sweating on the cracked white window sill. And the kids walk across the grass.The birds send out their last farewell notes They sail on the infinite breath of…
|
71283
|
Winter offers pitting salty sand clouds
|
71220
|
In my dream I am the showy leaf, and you are the stem and you are the strength. I am the leaf turning colors, my face flushed, the blonde hairs at my neck, and there is the deep carnal twisting around your stem that sends me floating to the ceiling over
|
71221
|
Details may be missing from our lives, but you can fill them in any time you want. Fill up the cup again with me. Come in and be warm, anytime you want. Wine, women, song, whatever. I sat on the curb once, in Mexico, saying, “Give me your salads, your o
|
71231
|
The details left undone let you know that tradesmen, visitors and strangers were not welcome.
|
71254
|
we went to together are now, according toyou, not to be believed. A memory of athought of a memory, of an arrow. There isno earth. There is no sun. There are no stars. All theplaces we went to together are to be paused,allowed to fade into never. The river is to be…
|
71200
|
Do you remember buying me a pair of knee-high boots? They laced up the front, I think. Really cool boots. Strange, the stuff you remember.
To be truthful, I can't remember exactly what information Sharon and I exchanged about you. I know we didn't get
|
71297
|
As ghosts, they became lovers. Rodion would strum the Underwood keys like a balalaika. Lizaveta would sing.
|
71185
|
|
711155
|
The trio stuffed their grilling equipment in a battered van and left for Dixieland Speedway at 4:30 am.
|
71031
|
His wife leans her head against a beam with her eyes closed
while he reads out loud.
Her mouth shut tightly, almost twisted shut. She’s so weary.
She raises her collar and sinks further into her neck.
When he shouts, or explodes – nothing.
|
71043
|
Someone has locked themselves in the large stall
They’re smoking one cigarette after another
And pulling long stretches of toilet paper off the rolls
God only knows for what purpose
And yelling for anyone who’s outside the stall
To go get them
|
71053
|
|
710117
|
Sometimes all that’s/
left is pissing
|
71032
|
why were ghosts in wry mirrors feeding on hope?
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