796 3 3
|
|
34161617
|
We descended directly from Charlemagne
|
119700
|
This tanka poem was inspired by news report that the Macy's of "Miracle on 34th Street" fame has a white Santa in front and a black Santa in back.
|
135042
|
Anatoly Gringovitch was listening to the dress rehearsal of Hausenstockmann’s Constellations at Auditorium Rainier III in Monte Carlo.
|
12581210
|
A man of action would take to his rake/
but Sloth would rather watch and wait/
for snow to erase each leaf on leaf.
|
119333
|
Coffee comes in KCups and you can't fight five wars at the same time.
|
13151311
|
I stomped up the steps clearing my shoes of snow. I was wearing my Rooskie fur hat with the ear flaps, and I kept it on when I went inside.
|
1440117
|
“Everything is neon, “ I say.
|
98800
|
A tanka poem inspired by the CEO's apology and a 10% discount for the 40 million debit card numbers stolen at Target store since Black Friday.
|
21821210
|
honey/she said/with a wink/and a twinkle
|
130755
|
This morning I found
A big black crow
Working over a flattened
Squirrel in the middle
Of the road
First day of winter
Longest night
Shortest day
No problem
The rest of the year
Should be a breeze
|
1636116
|
The voices he hears are God and the Devil and he knows the difference. Therefore, he is not mentally ill.
|
115841
|
Endless. I find this story.Beginning. To walk.Repeating. Repeating.The Memory. Of snow.Amsterdam. Rivers narrow.Hearts. Divide.Hands. Emboldened.Patronizing. Unpatriotic.Semblance. House held open.Forging. The ties…
|
1190106
|
The screen door slowly opened. I was expecting the second / coming of perfection.
|
163366
|
When she finally arrived it was like a cello playing inside me
|
120910
|
A tanka poem inspired by the 40 million debit card numbers stolen from Target stores since Black Friday last month.
|
20763320
|
He shows a wreaking disregard for the safety of others
|
141754
|
It turns out I know a thing or two about momentum. I know, I know. Like the crescendo of your bicycle wheels. Like the force the florist put on the stems the day Linda died. The way my fingers spin between planetary mass. This is how I know I’m not real
|
84732
|
I can hear my heart
in this empty field;
I feel it burn
against the wall of my chest.
|
87600
|
It was Christmas Eve. Time for the ghost to visit. Just one ghost in this story. The ghost of a Christmas past. Just one Christmas for just one ghost.He looked out the window. Under the distant streetlight the snow was falling. He turned on his porch light. …
|
177497
|
the observation, at the end, more/
important than the being there—
|
20962325
|
You climb on a stool, drink off the first glass without coming up for air. Man, that tastes good!
|
18011314
|
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…
|
16631817
|
Soon, she will turn to liquid
|
145967
|
I start with a morsel of truth, then hide it with lies...
|
132000
|
A tanka poem about Jolly Old Nick being black as hell.
|
132333
|
In a dazzle of emerald softness, it flew out into the breeze wanting for the red apple in the tree just outside my window. The power had gone out, spare change to total meltdown, and the air inside was stifling, thick with mind-numbing languor and mosquitoes. So I…
|
1541114
|
The parallels have become too numerous, and too striking, to ignore.
|
145600
|
It is suddenly very cold. Mon opens his eye. He sees fog, the ground. A skeletal tree. Where am I? he thinks. ... Mon listens. He can hear distant noises through the fog: laughter, …
|
122100
|
|
