1490 12 11
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The police states of German National Socialism/
and the Soviet Union are but pencil studies
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And then I get a call from a different kind of bar
They say you’re drunk on Cosmos and actin’ quite bizarre.
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She was the clerk in the photography shop.
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i sat in the car for a while
/ even after i arrived at the house
/ facing the garden with my headlights on
/ casting on it a dreary sort of fantasy
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First published on www.humortimes.com
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Life strikes another blow and away I go: back to the cave to sleep, read, write, dream, soothed by rocking chair therapy, spend hours on hours looking at photo memories, lighting incense and candles, crying, howling out the injustices smothering me. …
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1. Premonition “He had a premonition,” Agnes, the widow, said. “He said he was going to die.” “Ma,” Gregg said, “he always said he was going to die. He was the Fred Sanford of Central Ave.” “But this time it came…
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At a candlelit table near the back of the restaurant, Jack and Lois greeted the waiter as he delivered their drinks, a diet coke for him, and for her, a vodka and cranberry. He apologized for the slow bar service and promised to return in a moment to take their…
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"So what about this week's selection?" I ask cheerfully. "What did everybody think?"
"I liked it!" says Liz. She always does--her tastes aren't very discriminating.
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Uncounted hens and piglets/
die at my demand. The killing floor//
runs red for me. I am/
monstrous to creatures small and great,
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I had a temperature of 105 degrees. I lost all my hair.
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Death.
That which lays all men equal in the eyes of the earth.
Their is one for each of us, a unique snowflake of demise tailor made for every organism that persists in this convoluted game of life.
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He is the kind of boy that is so handsome / you already expect there is something wrong with him
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If this isn’t Paradise, what is?/ Your own eyes wide with/ the imagination, the knowing,/ the not-knowing of it all.
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Her thirteen year old daughter had hung herself in the hallway closet of the old house. Now the closet was empty and unused. The door was locked.
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He took off his sombrero and playfully placed it on my head. “And really, don’t be upset. You’re fine. There’s nothing wrong with loving your cat.”
He was right, there is nothing wrong with loving your cat. But there is something wrong with owning a di
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One cold winter's day she met what she thought was the love of her life. He had everything going for him but his age. You see the sweet young thing was a lot younger than her. One might say that she had lived many lives before he had been born.
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Sometimes the wind comes across the fields and you would swear that it can be known. Going along the one lane there I look out and see those vast spaces and then refocus on to closer on. Swinging the truck into a side road that goes far and far and then left, I pull into…
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away into a gale then
sleet he gurgled with
eddie the pike till
he yearned and
twirled the oracle
of spider gloss
till he slipped
alone into the sky
to find her in a violet
rain they splat together
back to back on the rail
in the rumbling tumbl
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I have cherished the memory of that meal since and have sought out Indian restaurants all over the world. San later told me that the best Indian food was to be had in London
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This latest married man who lives at a great distance has leeched her energy in that very particular way such men do. Next to him, I am as interesting as long division.
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I don't care much for Joking, which is not to say that I don't care at all for Joking, just that I don't care much. I would say, if I had to say, that I care for Joking about as much as I care for a cousin, not a close cousin, one I have a genuine frien
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“Skip the obsequies,” he said. He meant “flattery” but he’d been taking a “30 Days to a More Powerful Vocabulary” course.
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Her smile like fortune’s cannot be coerced but she opens her peignoir. He stares at the sullen bullethole between her breasts, dark blood welling slowly with each heartbeat. Does he bow slightly, turn away whole? You suppose not. She closes the door.
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They hunger for new real estate/
and those resources underground
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I remember reading poetry in the library
/ when I was in college, after skipping
/ Sociology, Psychology, or Theology.
/ I remember thinking: What is this nonsense?
/ I don’t want to waste my time on any of this.
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For the next two hours, Ed goes nonchalantly about his business, buck naked the whole time. He putters around the house, writes e mails, waters plants, vacuums the rug and sweeps the porch. I pretend to ignore his nudity
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Gary wrote in beautiful brevity of this most fabled story told with strings.
Of it's breathtaking majesty and boundless power.
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