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Birds FlySeven Poemsby Darryl Pricefor Charlotte and Mel, as always"We should insist on joy in spite of everything."--Tom Robbins“I don't need your love. I don't need you to understand. I just need you to listen.”—Perfume Genius1. I Want to Sing to…
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The two were huddled in a corner of an alley, joined by some others that I’m sure wandered into the darkness when they realized they were far from alone. That alley was the one off Market Street. I used to steal candy from the corner shop when I was nin
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My dad drove a Model A Roadster
and had a photo taken of him on a hunting trip up in Wisconsin
with one leather boot up on the running board
and a .22 caliber pistol in his hand
like Ernest Hemingway and Clark Gable rolled into one
My dad ro
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Conceptio culpa
Nasci pena
Labor vita
Necesse mori
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this one was abandoned... a splinter left under the skin, pushed out by protective flesh
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“Cheng Ho didn’t go just Cape Horn; treasure ships visit Australia and America. His very advanced compass. Not just point north-south. Show east-west too.”
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[continued from part one...]After sweeps, my schoolwork started to slip. I had trouble paying attention in class, and my workbooks and tests came back from the teacher marked in ketchup red ink. I had always been a good student, and this academic…
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Okay, no freaking out. I mean, this isn't a suicide note. This is suicide fiction.
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When they called him down there to the morgue to identify the body, he drove behind the wheel of his truck like some steady maniac on a long haul. The Ford 150 cried out for new shocks, but that hardly mattered. Mud plastered side panels and…
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once wedding cake
under pillows.
now fluffy frosting
on squashed defeat
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It’ll die in there and the stairwell’ll stink for weeks, Greg says in the car. We’re quiet, considering that.
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I ask for your patience with this form message, as it is part of a system that ensures
every submissive ex lover is considered separately, since I am involved in a lot of anonymous sex.
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Marie shrugs. “Maybe she’s just late. Come on, let's wait by the jungle gym.” She runs over and starts climbing. The jungle gym is closest to the path that goes into the woods and down into the canyon. She has to get him into the woods somehow.
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I can feel the souls
of those who perished
here
They’re still here
like old kites
hanging in the sky
tattered, but they
won’t come down
or can’t come down
just yet
because they haven’t
fulfilled their
unborn promises
t
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“Last night the Scots invaded Sweden,” I wrote, “to retrieve the silver filched from the Irish the Norwegians had in their coffers when Sweden conquered. The Swedes offered the Nobel to a Scots writer to keep ... the peace."
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It seems the people of this house were a happy family – The smiling faces, the children’s enthusiasm tells me as much. I wonder what happened to them.
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chet baker shades my eyes
rippling through the cool water
sometimes we feed the fish
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His middle name was Perceval. He judged the first Miss America contest in 1922. He saw himself primarily as a storyteller in the Dickensian mode.He claimed to be an illustrator rather than an artist. He disliked driving but loved to walk, and preferred…
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I have never met Joe’s brother, of course.
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The storm grew in might until it spawned the worst kind of tornado, an F-5 or Finger of God.
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At night, on these New England roads, there is no light, no pink sodium-vapor glow, no guideposts.
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There's a mirror in front of me and I thought it was so I could see myself, but I didn't want to see me.
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I scare my daughter when she sleeps because she thinks I'm going to kill her.
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Night fell and the photographer slept, one hand between Prue's legs.
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When I squint at her from across the table I can see the waveforms created by her carrier signal.
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'Yer a cool, cool glass of water baby....'
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He was the kind of man that I would rather have declawed than date, and then leave him on a gurney, helpless and anaesthetized. Cliff Eames had made me feel that way since we were teenagers. He would never be helpless. …
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I don't know if we'll meet again in the sea of light. Circumstances aren't only up to human beings. After all maybe it's all drunk circumstance, but that doesn't answer the blinding question, it only poses some more. This is…
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On the table the image is by Chardin but the puzzle is by someone else and that is what he has dumped out of the box.
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Everyone runs to the plane but me. I get the last seat (middle of 5), crush men’s bags on my way. I’m white & female. They glare.
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