1990 2 1
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The dump smelled of the chaos of creation, of rusting metal and burned glass, chemicals and rancid rainwater, wet cardboard and rotting wood, paint slaking off clapboards and drums.
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199040
|
That night we slept on the floor of Kirk and Maggie’s apartment and listened to them arguing all night about art and life and love. Ah, me, I sighed, the sad soul of America! I thought of Walt Whitman. I thought of Allen Ginsberg.
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199020
|
Berto had come to live with me a month earlier. He’d been cursed by being the favored child of our parents. Their indulgence resulted in a 40 year old man and heroin addict from age 17 and all that accompanies such an existence such as thievery, larcen
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19902418
|
If you’re not dead yet, you’ll die of something.
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19902210
|
She feels ugly but ready for anything.
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19903516
|
My heart beat someone up the stairwell.
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19893514
|
We were destined by chemistry and plastic figurines to give it a go.
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19891413
|
Are you interested in a new account?
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1989199
|
that day is my barking up and leaves falling down story, but in their elephant slowness it seemed no more than the regular run of the sun slightly disappearing here, and then maybe reappearing there, like a lost color, way over the horizon, or the…
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198985
|
Your pajamas torture us.
When moist they uncomfortably cling. They have evil buttons, and they cause us to stumble on them in the dark.
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1989128
|
Cousin Rudy pulled up a cod /
out of season /
we were rigged for haddock, /
it was dressed for the weather
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1988115
|
You aren’t easy to explain, you Americans.
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198872
|
Sally was bathing Homeless Hope in her bathtub when the phone rang in the kitchen.
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1987105
|
If it were known that I am as stupid as I am, if the press were to open that page on TV, if the laughter shot itself like fireworks out into the road--
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1987118
|
Erin Hoffmeyer Zulkoski. I was at work today, doodling on a piece of scrap paper. I often find myself writing my name, practicing my signature, for when I become famous. I have always written "Erin Zulkoski." Today, I wrote "Erin Hoffmeyer." This…
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198764
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I find my mother’s pink Pyrex mixing bowl at the antique store on Fairview Avenue. It’s in the hands of a fat woman in a blue down parka, and she’s holding it upside down, squinting at the sticker on the bottom.
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1987138
|
Heaven’s a blast! It’s like a big summer camp in space...We are the weavers of the tie-dyed sky.
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1987117
|
Your specific request that I never submit to you again; ever, is cause for puzzlement, yet strangely motivating.
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1986187
|
the heat and energy it takes
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198631
|
“You people remember the thing you learned in science about every action creating its own equal and opposite reaction? The same is true in other realms. All of existence is continually recycled…again and again in infinite permutations. In other words,
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198623
|
My father's hands were huge. His left knuckles gashed as a kid when he rode his bike too close to a moving train. When his fingers fisted around a glass, the scarred joints bulged from his grip like blind eyes.
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1986189
|
She waves her hand around, says, “Pah!” and starts digging invisible things out of the potato salad with her bare hands.
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198600
|
Emi was cheerful and nice towards her classmates. It was like she saw a different person last night. Emi’s pupil-less red eyes frightened her, and the spell that she cast on her, that bump on the head still lingered.
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1985149
|
for the rush of longing
and brush with flight
that is her imagination
will surely lift her above the traffic
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198521
|
If the photographs made sounds, they would rumble like static from an impending thunderstorm, pressed between the pages of a yellowing dictionary. Compressed sound, searching for the proper words.
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198511
|
I read the runes, the cards, the signs, the sticks. I consulted tarot cards and read tea leaves. I listened to you, deconstructed every word and look and tone with the harshest logic and cynicism I could muster. If there was some way to decipher what you
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198587
|
next time i come around i want to be a redwood.
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19851211
|
Mick Jagger and I strolled rue Gabrielle in Montmartre. Our conversation spread from apples to shellfish. We stopped for some oysters. Do you remember a time when books were venerated, I asked? I remember a time, he said, when rock and roll was a fetus in the tank of…
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198473
|
Ancient erections loom aloft
ringed by decades
centuries for some
in gnarled scabs of pine.
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19843113
|
“I liked you best in Choke–you were sexy in a lazy, sort of ‘70s way.”
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