827 3 1
|
The first time ever I saw your place
With furnishings of orange and blue--oo oo oo.
|
82743
|
Crispcrashingcoldan interlude from youThe pebbles pulled back and forthlike side stepping nailswhite frothan interlude from youThe sun likeA camellia for herCrispColddropsflicking on her face.An interludefrom you.
|
82700
|
I am bound behind the bars of my own domesticity, /
by this banana, and pea soup, and wilted cabbage
|
82621
|
It was 1984, that foreboding year, I now
recall. You were in the hospital,
your cat having snagged your nail.
|
82650
|
Oh, by the way
here’s my old phone number
548-7899
Remember?
Call me
It will ring
somewhere
in the past
We can make
amends
|
826167
|
Unseen, he slides through cracks, unbound, liquid fear of mothers.
|
82621
|
The box kite floats high over the marsh.
|
82600
|
Luke Warm and the Sole Contenders.
Door Odor Ant.
Release My Pajamas!
Behemoth Pterodactyls.
Dragon Wagons.
Mucked Up.
The Gosspinator.
Italian Film Director.
Summer Dress.
Unsolicited Advice.
Golden Calf.
The Gum-Chewin Gurus.…
|
82500
|
As we entered the circus tent
We passed the big cats' wagon.
A sleeping tiger lay
in what I knew was hay.
|
82300
|
“You know,” I said finally, “when I’m out in the waiting room, I get high blood pressure when you call my name.”
|
82320
|
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
|
82322
|
She knew that she was bland and overweight and dull; that what was beautiful in her was locked away like a tiny maiden, far, far away in a tower, too difficult to find or reach. She must face her lot, grateful for her family and her work.
|
82220
|
Papa was fucking the artist’s wife, Lillian, and the artist knew it but was afraid to say anything and she had broad, muscular brown arms and loved the sun on the sea and also she was just as athletic as the great writer and caught the big fish right alon
|
82232
|
this vaudeville world has turned all into stage— / the message appears on each screen and page: / every domain and institution—staged.
|
82130
|
I just can't figure out why nothing terrible happened to me that night. Young, blonde, drunk American girl sitting on a dirty curb in the red light district of Nuevo Laredo, and everyone left me alone ... amazing.
|
82131
|
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.
|
82100
|
She put on her hat, and walked into the back area, where she found a locker that held her name badge and a tube of chap stick.
|
82177
|
what-ta-hell, fuck this/he snorts brushing/
the dust from his shoulders
|
82100
|
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
|
82031
|
He stood with his cardboard sign and watched the faceless occupants, watched for a car window to lower; there were few.
|
82010
|
I remember him saying something like: “Are you aware of how completely horrible you are as a human being?”
|
82032
|
why were ghosts in wry mirrors feeding on hope?
|
81901
|
Though bleached white as snow,/
Eric Cantor’s teeth broke/
much as any others would
|
81911
|
Sometimes you get the upgrade you deserve.
|
81900
|
http://fictionique.com/?p=16220
|
81941
|
Go ahead, show the soul its own beauty. But also tell me again about my own, so I may know I lived, and loved you. The one who shows the soul its own touching beauty gets to keep her. Who shows her the golden nightly song that's given us life, is like t
|
81820
|
Cataclysm was a bustling city
right across the river from Orgasm.
|
817102
|
Each day he rolls that goddamned rock,
|
81754
|
The first thing I realized I was hearing when I woke up from the land of nowhere was the brittle sounds of little frozen rods of rain crashing into the sliding glass porch doors relentlessly and cracking into tiny shards of split piles in…
|
81774
|
I'm more ash now than cigar.
|
