hands slide into gloves unseen / eyes disappear behind glass / the crank turns the flywheel spins: / every octave has droppt low / sub-sonic shudders within—

Wait until you are home alone at last. Put the dog outside. Close the cat in the room down the hall, where you can't hear her mew to be let out. Turn off the television. Switch off any devices playing music. Take the phone off the hook. Turn your cell ph

The conspicuous police car was conspicuously just ahead.

Let’s start with the end—death. Upbeat, huh?

I had a dream about being in a vintage alley that had bowling balls with adjustable relations to gravity

The couple sit at an outside table at McDonalds.

Your brain was connected to your feet ...

Let it rage. I shall not suppress you. Let your rage speak to you of the sorrow it hides, until your sadness swallows you whole.

Between chapters, he trained my dog, Buster. He taught him to fetch bottle caps, roll over for no reason, and to play dead whenever someone raised their voice

“—but although we've catalogued instances of this on other planets, it seems never to've led to the global outbreak of psycho-phrenias and neuro-pathologies as those that plagued the Tiānxiàns!”

#281: If you make it to the end on this one, I'll send you $1,000 in cash and a bag of apples. Your choices are Granny Smith and Fuji. I can also pay you in euros if that helps.

A Praying Mantis clover to bright emerald green landed on my sleeve and lingered as I worked in my hay field.

Christian Bell can’t sleep in/on the following: airplanes, car trips, couches, first nights in hotels, jury duty holding area, commuter train, work breakroom, tent, park bench, the ground.

"We run a family show, here — Christ! We play Juice Newton. We play Christopher Cross."

Sometimes words are carved in stone, but you won't find these in this poem