1302 8 4
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When the hay was ripe it stirred and rippled like water.
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90132
|
We reach for things and objects//
made of ever smaller things and objects
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113444
|
Poems reflect their poets. /
Mine: ugly but loved. /
It is just as well.
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107522
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Often I want to kiss their lips
Drink in every word they have written
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16141816
|
We die in order to get some rest
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12621312
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The service was a disaster. The Protestants bobbed up and down. They didn't know when to stand, when to sit. I
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177166
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Every single girl, from junior to senior (and a few counselors too, I suspected), wanted to make out with Marty Miller. Did he know how drunk with attraction I was?
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104511
|
A Boston company has created a humanoid robot named “Baxter” that performs manufacturing tasks and gets a confused look on its face when it needs something.
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79020
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Hoverboard plate glass of being upon within, splay palsy mothership. Sparks drift from beneath crouched workman's butt in front of a building that was ours last week. Tents with eclectic offerings pitched along thoroughfares winding through neighborhoods under dim…
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123388
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My favorite lie is that he'd escaped the South Tower before it collapsed. Smoke inhalation erased his way home. Mine's better than mother's version: a stranger hurled herself onto him. The truth is when they stopped search and rescue, mother told father, Go. Even dead, his…
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128464
|
The cat wound itself around Megan’s neck, its purring curling through Megan’s consciousness. She was the cat and then herself, both things at once.
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122855
|
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134431
|
I stared deep into the sepias...
And you touched my soul anew.
|
181711
|
A 1960’s of walking sugar beet fields to remove the rogue bolters by hand and on other days painting the ironwork of cattle sheds with red oxide. Then a 1970’s when the self-inking explosion of tattoos on his hands and then his body began.
|
151164
|
Raymond Carver used to write poetry in his car. /
Tonight, I tried it too. /
I have a car like Raymond Carver /
but cannot write poetry like Raymond Carver. /
The car isn’t enough.
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138655
|
|
18692422
|
But I came back around, after Robert Kennedy got shot, with one hand up your skirt and the other on the gear shift...
|
14921211
|
I am sitting on our porch in the middle of the night. I can't sleep. The stars look like runway lights. Out of boredom, I reach out my hand to connect the distant dots. The tip of my finger hits…
|
159474
|
Myrna woke up with a start and sensed a strange silence in the air. She quickly flipped on an electric switch and when the lights came on she breathed a sigh of relief. Dawn was just breaking so she went back to bed and pulled the comforter over her head.
|
111653
|
we can’t hear the hum/
and the heat is imperceptible.
|
180446
|
"The problem is, sometimes my pigeon wants to fly somewhere new- to the beach or south for winter. Other times, my pigeon wants to steal someone else’s lunch or picnic with a stranger’s leftovers. Often, my pigeon wants a good show and some freedom, to be
|
15711913
|
perjured like a fickle impulse
|
107234
|
Dark morning sleet whitecrusts the world
once more, shrouds remains
of January thaw:
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113844
|
"How the fucks he drivin' like that?"
|
117612
|
|
98311
|
As clever as clean bed sheets
|
133723
|
① / empty space / not black / not white / not noise / blanck
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112521
|
Sometimes when I fall I see a ...
|
1587114
|
A young woman in shorts removes her sunglasses, putting them on top of her head in order to study a little girl sitting on her father’s lap on the bus.
“I want to get me one of those,” she’s says, smiling. Dark eyes, her dark hair wet and hangin
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124177
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If something hurts enough/
you never forget it. Like the//
toothache when you first learned
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