2270 9 11
|
Someone who I know only via Facebook and a writer site we both belong to posted a picture of a 12 week old fetus in the palm of a human hand. The message was anti-abortion. You know--how can you consider killing this baby? And the picture was of a tiny, tiny…
|
2269 11 7
|
“Later,” I say to the frisky crickets, verbal cash of the eggnog spa, spot of gum…
|
2269 27 19
|
We are not alone, not as alone as we think.
|
2269 6 1
|
The imitator’s segue to his sad life story was, “But what isn’t funny…”
|
2269 0 1
|
Luther Mishmash stood numbly in the yard, dumbly staring at the soiled pair of underpants flapping lazily in the breeze on the wash line. Grandpa had wet himself again. Tomorrow, at school, he knew he’d hear about it. Luther wasn’t sure which was more
|
2268 1 1
|
I am one one millionth of a ratings point. A little flash of electronic blue against the wall of an otherwise unlit upstairs room at night. Walk by on the sidewalk feeling lonely, then see that harsh spark of indigo spring from the dark window above and
|
2268 0 0
|
His hands were like that when he was born. No one really understood why. Neither of his parents had any body parts made of oats. Neither of them had even eaten any oats the morning the conception took place. But sure enough, when Edwin MacGrain was born o
|
2268 15 12
|
for going forthe river and being blinded by its millionsof invisible fish, all sparklinglike pink enchanteddreams made of rosequartz and shaped like glassroses, who would? I fell for an illusionaftermy own fashion,but I could alwaysadmit mymistakes and catcha laugh out…
|
2268 24 11
|
"Baby, he turned gray and dead before he hit the floor".
|
2268 16 13
|
This is self-reflection or self-reflexive writing. Candor but not verse. That is what I write: not-verse. On occasion I write a poem though rarely an occasional poem. Instead of calling it non-fiction we could call it non-verse.
|
2267 3 2
|
This is what happened today.
|
2266 4 3
|
First it makes me think about the time I held a live, albeit tranquilized, juvenile gator at a zoo in Florida when I was twelve. (Somewhere these's a photograph, no doubt, of me looking terrified and a gator looking asleep.)
|
2266 19 9
|
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…
|
2266 4 0
|
Sitting at an outside table at the Bassett Café
on West Broadway, I remember, in the background
always the Twin Towers behind me
in the photographs from that time
And the sparrows in New York, bolder than anywhere
working over the scrap
|
2266 14 7
|
I cannot make love to a woman who looks like David Byrne.
|
2266 13 9
|
It is Cary's favorite time of day. School is finished and he is alone, outside his home; and that is the way Cary likes it. Buffalo Bill is having a grand time today! In one corner of the backyard where the grass is bare, Cary is leading the little plastic Bill to…
|
2265 8 8
|
I took 7 Beatle Song Titles and Made 7 Darryl Poems Out of Them"Some musicians heal ethnic groups. Some musicians heal nations. The Beatles healed an entire planet."--Joe Queenan"There was adventure,knowingness,love,and abundant charm.From any angle,they are the…
|
2265 12 8
|
Love heals. Lovers know this from the start, Yet they may not know with certainty What love is. Not that it matters especially When they find the magic within the power Of unfolding lust, Of redemption, Of unmitigated joy. There's a mutual…
|
2265 7 7
|
Thank you for submitting your epic poem I, I, I for consideration. While we are encouraged that you have relented from the ruthless self-endictment you affected so unconvincingly in your previous entry, Why Am I...
|
2265 10 9
|
We were young, she said, it was all in front of us. We should never have settled for this.
|
2265 17 6
|
On the very day I was fired from Penn State, in 1971, I was also kidnapped by a short-lived underground student revolutionary group who spelled their own name wrong. They shoved me into the backdoor of a yellow rusted-out car on Atherton Street, blindfolded me. A…
|
2265 7 5
|
You ran so quickly for a while no one could find you. Finally, you sent us a report. You had retreated to the sea, you had your legs stitched together, you became a mermaid and were applying to join the school.
|
2264 9 3
|
I laugh too loud cause the world looks good that way and for a minute we both make funny sounds just to exercise our vocal cords and see how close we can come to the line without crossing.
|
2264 11 7
|
The store was closing for good, and so I purchased a book of poems by Cavafy,
that poet of ruins and tombstones, and fragments from disintegration.
|
2263 16 11
|
Poor souls. Likely they'll be poets.
|
2263 4 4
|
“I spent the best years of my life raising you, and now that you've grown, I never hear from you.” Sound familiar? That's the “Mom's Lament.” Mothers have been kvetching at their grown-up kids like this since the beginning of…
|
2263 3 2
|
Since Patty got the lumpectomy, she won’t sleep with anyone but Cal, because he was the one who went with her to the hospital and wasn’t surprised when he saw the scar.
|
2263 5 4
|
i am wire i am wiredi am soaking fucking tiredi am sorry i am coldi am so fucking unsoldi am endlessi am statici am past lost time fanatici am wounded i am seethingi am bothered angry leaving.i am metal i am wateri am sister fucking daughteri am nothing i am lazyi am…
|
2263 11 6
|
He rounds his back to stretch again, circles his arms like a ballerina, settles into the couch cushion behind him. “We made plans. Real plans. New York City. Live like bohemians. Fuck like chinchillas.”
|
2263 27 14
|
will we become artifacts?
|