1179 8 4
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When the hay was ripe it stirred and rippled like water.
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79032
|
We reach for things and objects//
made of ever smaller things and objects
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99944
|
Poems reflect their poets. /
Mine: ugly but loved. /
It is just as well.
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97222
|
Often I want to kiss their lips
Drink in every word they have written
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14521816
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We die in order to get some rest
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11001312
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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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159566
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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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93211
|
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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69020
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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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105688
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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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113164
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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.
|
109355
|
|
119831
|
I stared deep into the sepias...
And you touched my soul anew.
|
165011
|
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.
|
136464
|
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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124155
|
|
16972422
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But I came back around, after Robert Kennedy got shot, with one hand up your skirt and the other on the gear shift...
|
13321211
|
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…
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16781617
|
Alone he waited in dimness, studied smooth wooden walls and traced their polished patterns.
|
127274
|
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.
|
99453
|
we can’t hear the hum/
and the heat is imperceptible.
|
155646
|
"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
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13801913
|
perjured like a fickle impulse
|
92334
|
Dark morning sleet whitecrusts the world
once more, shrouds remains
of January thaw:
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100044
|
"How the fucks he drivin' like that?"
|
102412
|
|
85911
|
As clever as clean bed sheets
|
117323
|
① / empty space / not black / not white / not noise / blanck
|
98221
|
Sometimes when I fall I see a ...
|
1415114
|
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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