1835 3 3
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Behind the plastic kitchen, where the special children sometimes sit, a large boy in tight dungarees had grabbed Stephanie's hair in one fist.
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134954
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We’ll just choke on all our shit
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121221
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The body does what a body must
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132132
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her knife cleaves a single red hair
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158232
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Michiko stood in front of Steinway Hall on West 57th Street.
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120321
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Purple fades.
Orange into a deeper blue...The deepest blue ever known.
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141288
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for spirits and demons have no life/
but what imagination gives
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1944115
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A compliment is candy to the heartbroken, oxygen to a suffocating flame. The best hunter picks his prey carefully, selecting his line like an archer pulling an arrow from a quiver, quickly and efficiently, then flick! the line cuts through the air and…
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33452
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What shattering tranquility! Such a devastating hush! The flora in its element, the sky a flaccid red. Dreaming just a little, more or less awake, the people shift, capitulate, move like animated trees, dropping their leaves on pathways, on subtle …
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131554
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The renegade states- Virginia, Georgia,/
Texas, and the rest- should have lost their names
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21801915
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as long as you have some snacks up there
I can be brave
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2732105
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In my choppings, I come across a tiny carrot amidst the baby carrots. The runt if you will.
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15401310
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the last, best//
analgesic--/
guaranteed
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154866
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And here’s a picture of you
at the end of the line
to the great toilet of
fiction, waiting to
relieve yourself, quick
before the poetry gets to you.
Or worse, the actual
poets.
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156465
|
Certain disorders lend themselves to poetics.
|
154932
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I used to be a poet, you know. /
Better, in many respects, than you.
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176887
|
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137843
|
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160532
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—So much for a cocktail at the tender hour of twilight, he told the empty beer bottle.
|
21100
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I One only I desire, no freedom binds or blinds.Not an icebox mind of fire, more than a myth that is a myth, …
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15912115
|
A small poem about incipient insanity
|
129575
|
|
128400
|
VIII. Towards Affinities, Beyond My love, since I saw you last, since before we reached the chamber, I cannot count the quasars which have passed, but there still gleams Time, Like a memory of a lost event unwitnessed, and this illusion Carried…
|
131355
|
Every six weeks or so, he and I would argue. I would argue. He would listen. He raised me twenty-five cents each time. I suppose that is a bad habit for me to have gotten into—to get pissed about rates and to fight to get a raise.
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144920
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it’s more about how all those words look around each other. he’s more interested in the shape of things, than the reality....
|
124664
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I got caught writing poems
at the paint factory
several times
before they fired me
I got caught in the middle
of one of my best lines
but can’t remember what
I meant to say
anymore,
but I know, just know
it was something real good,
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455765
|
He ran over our elderly neighbor Lenard, but not on purpose, or at least not as far as we could tell; there wasn't any yelling, I mean, and he didn't look happy when he got out of the car, though who could really tell through a bear costume.
|
146254
|
Even mockingbirds are scarce;
|
18181712
|
love weaves a perforated web
between the spikes
of longing
|
1675148
|
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