775 5 3
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the continuous racket, a buzz saw trumpet
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136622
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We passed a dead cat lying up against a guard rail, its fur stringing and wet and exposing its bloated skin which had a purple tint to it. Not my work, Death said, smoke trickling out of one eye socket.
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87984
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When the sailor heard the 2nd
World War had just ended
He grabbed the woman in the white dress
Bent her backwards in Times Square
And kissed her real good
And the photographer
Just happened to be there
At the right moment
But then
As
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87353
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I'd had way too many drinks. My legs were quivering. Everyone had gathered there in the kitchen, my sleek and attractive ex-wife the center of attention, all the men fucking drooling over her. Seems she was a yoga queen now, a vegan princess, a dancer somewhere. She…
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91965
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"Time is an ocean, but it ends at the shore. You may not see me tomorrow."--Bob DylanThey're writing poems, but not for me. Guess I'll write one for my own. For nobody that I know now. It's a pretty lonely world for someone who sings, not you, not with…
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94554
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i hope that day comes sooner rather than later.
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81432
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In the mirror an owl staring you in the face once again,/a fraught fragment of life’s puzzle. But you pretend it’s. . . .
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62721
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You say very little when all is ready, the coffee and all, and afterward, during the ride, and even less as suddenly thirteen women pile in.
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88583
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102496
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my love for you/ is like the falling snow
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992177
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the burning thrusts/
of yellow in defiance of the frost
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112783
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"I would like my pictures to look as if a human being had passed between them, like a snail, leaving a trail of the human presence, memory trace of past events, as the snail leaves its slime." Francis bacon “Feminine …
|
1248168
|
Lou Reed was sitting in CBGB,
I was sitting on Greenwich Ave. and West 10th street.
I didn't know him then and I didn't know him later either,
but we were both there.
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91054
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I suspect I’ll make the right decision.
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72242
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94033
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“C'mon Billy, don't be s-s-s-s-scared.' said the voice coming from under the bed. Billy looked over the side and saw a pale white, bony right hand with it's forefinger beckoning him protruding out from below. The nails were yellowed and cracked. And long. Very, very…
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79743
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a ruminating marsupial? if so,/
I guess I’d be a kangaroo, the cud soured/
and pasted to the tongue . . .
|
81311
|
The waves assisted in pushing him forward, until he reached the dry sand. He saw a small resort town ahead. The lights were out in the businesses and homes.
|
79865
|
I can walk among words, Scatter them like birds, to compose two thirds of a poem, when they settle on nearby wires, in an order inspiring wonder. What do they think, when I scatter them asunder. Bring them disarray, Shape them to a…
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1145117
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138965
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Is every librarian a poet at heart? I don't know, but a group of librarians recently put their heads together and came up with these library-themed Valentine's Day poems: Roses are red Your book's overdue You've had it for months Which is…
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86333
|
A strange man tapped my door and held up the shoes for me to see. “It is the Dork Shoe,” he said. I looked past him at his dusty station wagon filled with boxes. “I have your size right here.” I observed the halo of his gray hair as he…
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80533
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I feel like I should tell you
things about strength.
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99297
|
Is it my imagination, or is her chair afraid of her?
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915146
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I am the ritual/
banalities of days numbered,/
numberless, and numb.
|
76133
|
I’m living at the Edge of Graffiti
And yet I still survive
Because I walked across the line
Separating me from the rest of mankind
You can see me out here
I’m in so much pain
All that’s written on my face
I think it’s pretty plain
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91765
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You don’t want to tango with me, she said.
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1229128
|
she lifted and threw her legs out the open
side front window of the speeding auto
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111845
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This is your mystery, your story Full of beauty and all-encompassing loveA brushstroke washes the canvas cleanYou start over with a new directionDreaming of me as you paint your wordsWriting just like Keats, Shelley and BrontëAbout sorrow, rain and the wheels of passion
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97854
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We sat up in bed. It's two o'clock in the morning. Blinding circular flashlight beams probe through the half pulled shades. Magnified black silhouettes of men's torsos lumber back and forth in the yard. We are in a fishbowl and being invaded.
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