44 2 1
|
What if I never feel like a real artist? What does it even mean to be a "real" artist? What if nobody ever cares about what I make?
|
4622
|
our changeless moons slice through eaten skies/faces turn from sun to cloud to eclipse/apogees and perigees in turn/pulling the tides of our blood all through us,/friend, villain, witness, calendric clock:
|
7433
|
You make a wedding gift personal, see, otherwise you go on the register. I was new to weddings, so I'd looked it up, and even NPR said don't go on the register.
|
4422
|
There’s someone in the audience who is immolating himself
Cutting his own leg over and over with a pen knife
And groaning: “Oh God, oh God”
And all I can think from up at the podium is
This guy must absolutely hate these poems
I am reading
|
6954
|
|
47107
|
one season slips into another
|
6266
|
It was always your body that told so much --
lips working some secret out
|
6833
|
I heard that Hollywood is remaking “Thelma and Louise” with Christina Ricci and that dark haired girl who worked on a show that plays on the television. I heard it either from the internet or from a dream. I thought about looking it up, but I don't…
|
5655
|
“Man...I...I loved them!”
|
13143
|
Eighty years since we last leaned to the Right, we have already
dug trenches in our head, built walls between skins and gods.
|
1301311
|
I wrangle word juice
from the Oxford American, sighing at photographs of blues musicians with solemn lakes for eyes.
|
87138
|
Falling//
is something that comes quite naturally/
to puffed up things. Like the soufflé
|
6984
|
on cd I make
john hiatt does not smash
perfectly good guitar
|
7175
|
|
85117
|
The feel of the lifeguard's tongue surprised me. It was like wet leather, not smooth, and it had an unexpected stiffness to it. When Susan and I practiced we kept our tongues to ourselves. I wasn't sure if this was because to French…
|
7566
|
|
15484
|
Like a blank rumor of/ice and smoke you worked on me
|
8764
|
bassackward/in the surreal/bathroom mirror
|
1511914
|
I'm sitting here listening to Nebraska and it's / breaking my heart
|
21111
|
another lonely drone holding still
|
991010
|
I had some words, but the truth is they don't mean a thing because whatever it is I was trying to say to you always crumbles to the ground in front of you. I had some words, but the bullying wind was stronger than me and ripped them…
|
8598
|
It’s strange, what will become of me
What my life will be like
Since the animal in me
Is beginning to show on my back
Oh no, no, no
Women will never put up with this
I was afraid this would happen
They’ll think I’m only half a man
I’
|
99159
|
my family's Scottish heritage
|
1041210
|
I. Two cancer scares since June, one came up nothing the other nothing much. (My breasts are dense: I know all about moles— little bastards don't have to get sun to go nuts.) My manuscript travels ether to…
|
1722010
|
secrets are beautiful
/
between four lips
|
8956
|
“I was so fucking stoned, man”
|
108189
|
I want to tell you how the odor of the flowers/felt her funeral day
|
1422110
|
The fly comes in against my will/
and hers. She would prefer/
the wider world with its piles of shit
|
10011
|
"It is, of course, spelled 'Ayn,' not 'Ann' Rand." ¶ "Glad you like the U.S. more than Mother Russia."
|
8463
|
The poet said, ‘I feel the fell of dark, not day.” but day it always is. Bright! Bright!
the city claims its blue salutes; its stopping in mid-sentence at a name where fingers roam a stone.
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