834 3 0
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Creating a world in which no one believes . . . killing a world in which no one could believe.
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83300
|
The dog catcher appeared to be trolling the neighborhood in his doggy death van.
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83333
|
I like to collect twilights. I fold them carefully and put them in my wallet. They fit neatly between the dollar bills that have a weird tendency to curl. This bugs me. I don't know why they do that. Something to do with the design of the wallet. But the twilights fit…
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83300
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Maybe love shouldn't exist
. . .
If we follow this notion
there is no great need
Where does it come from,
this great need?
. . .
If (it) is in the blood
how do they get it out?
If not,
where is it
If they do not allow
thought
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83342
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83353
|
If you ever find yourself outside a funeral home lighting up
contemplating the future of the unknown, contemplate this
Maybe the cigarette’s wet on your lip and you are wondering why
Or in the middle of the night you are lying awake
and try sa
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83220
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When one hears the siren call of artsy high school love, there’s not much one can do except go ahead and crash on the rocks, sending incense sticks and candles flying.
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83200
|
“Okay, so I'm lying naked in this coffin with my big dick out,” George W. Bush says. “Yes!” …
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83200
|
Ordonez gives me a look that speaks a volume–Volume 4 of the Encyclopedia Americana, Birmingham to Burlington, which includes the subject of bullfighting.
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83210
|
what i will always remember of you is of that singular sunday / when a black lock of hair brushed against your cheek
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83174
|
The mud slicks at low tide were a mood.Thick gobs that smelled of fish, sulfur and claysalt and wild seaweed like fungusmoldy like left out fruityet it drew her closerto the shorelinecloser to feelingit between her toesthick, squirtsas her feet liftedlike a suction cupand…
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831117
|
Sometimes all that’s/
left is pissing
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83086
|
Because I was not sure if the poet had said yearn or urine, I zoomed in on her mouth as she commanded the lectern...
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83000
|
I saw ice on the bottom of the moon last night, and I always thought I knew what it meant to go without, but this is something else again. To be without you this long is exhausting, it could wither the soul to go on like this. There’s this head hanging,
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83011
|
There I saw a woman with dyed long red hair
Dressed all in furs and a short tight skirt
Way too young for her age
And she was banging a tampon on her leg
At the performance of Ramblin Jack Eliot
And no one got up to throw red wine on her
Ful
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83010
|
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.
|
829138
|
Shhhh, my husband is trying to write...
|
82850
|
Certain basic realities have escaped us. This is a good time to remember.
|
82820
|
She had a body like an upside-down viola da gamba without the sound holes, frets or strings. Full at the top, narrowing at the waist, slender legs where the neck should have been.
|
82721
|
In fact we were all drinking together in banquet halls (on banquet ships) with an epic poet who invented things, made things up, while dying in thorough dissipation.
Washed to shore, our souls with our lives, our shadows. And storms swept them away
|
82720
|
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82766
|
A drunken evening, both men soused and twitchy. An argument ensues with Yellow House roommate Paul Gauguin. The two dissing each other’s work like clicking beetles
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82700
|
“Why don’t you dump Mr. Fitness here and give one of us a chance?” a mouse says.
“I wouldn’t fuck you for practice,” she says sharply.
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82643
|
—and the god presiding over all / a four-faced, double-Janused clock / its equal seconds clickt away / ticking us our steps and breaths . . .
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82621
|
(it) looks out at the world
from behind a film
(it) does not participate
(it) is slow to love
. . .
There is the image
And they say they are
in the world
. . .
Blood does not
shake their hearts
They lie and
take your s
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82622
|
The body receives its embrace but / only by the anti-body.
|
82554
|
Wheel turning, round and round again
|
82422
|
he felt like ranting about cars.
|
82400
|
Sorry to disturb. Have you seen God in here?No, not of lately, no. Shit.Why, is it urgent?Kind of. Would a cup of tea be of any help?Always. Man in the living room goes in the kitchen, space and time suddenly shift, man in dream does not know where he is, man…
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82410
|
"I'm dreading it," says Kati Rivers, a visual artist who has lived in the Fort Point Channel district. "A bunch of fat suburbanites driving up rents and crowding creative people out of the little cafes and bistros."
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