2219 16 10
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Tents staked in desert land, a muted building of parched earth, in a thirty year old city with a napalm birth, they wait among gravestones in the sand.
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1031 0 0
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The eater's pose extending the fork in hand toward the bowl wherein the appetizer lay readied. Salad, carefully configured for its purposes mixing vitality with pleasure which should not be differentiated, don't you agree? Colors selected for their…
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1113 1 0
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I bow my head
and shed the antlers
of past lives
I no longer butt heads
with the universe
but I miss my curse
and can’t do worse
I throw myself in reverse
and rehearse the early scenes
of science and my
full meat diet
that sent
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1419 10 3
|
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1878 0 0
|
Worldwide, sturdy bells quickly superseded decomposable, and edible, cheese balls as jesters' preferred cap ornaments.
|
3720 62 53
|
Our flag-draped coffins float to the surface of an uncharted sea and we appear together—patriots both—on the cover of Life Magazine.
|
1917 17 7
|
Since the divorce had gone final, the matter settled once and for all, he’d taken to a masochistic bingo of sorts.
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1277 0 0
|
When his mother was all dressed up on New Year’s Eve, and his father, even thought they had tickets for the dance, announced to her he wasn’t going to go, Johnny had gone into his room, put on a white shirt, a dark suit, his dress shoes, and a clip-o
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1431 4 1
|
threads of Cocoa Krispies
|
1491 2 1
|
I knew nothing about the letter at first. When I came in that morning and smiled and said good morning, it was a genuine smile and a heartfelt good morning. But the letter, which had arrived the previous afternoon, was already doing its corrosive work of
|
7465 24 23
|
Before I published anything in a literary magazine, I was rejected by literary magazines, dozens of them, and these rejections gave birth to one of my more strange and long-lived art projects.
|
1822 5 2
|
All wolves, my child, want to be eaten.
|
1056 1 1
|
how many lighted days remain
|
1449 7 2
|
"Penning a slight of tongue well versed
or worse, a salacious lie..."
|
983 1 0
|
In the poetry section, no one talks except to say, "excuse me," or, "wow," or, "amazing," with the second 'a' stretched out like a blacktop highway. But mostly they say, "excuse me." and that's only because someone dressed in a corduroy jacket is …
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1221 2 2
|
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948 0 0
|
It's late it's early love youfuck me the difference isin the garage boxes sitbehind me in the trunklike passengers beside melike pedestrians in frontof me I choose our directionwhat stays what comes whatis what and how did I end upin the garage in the first placein the…
|
1396 5 4
|
My wife broke the news to me. She enjoyed it, too, I'm certain of that. It was a juicy piece of gossip.
|
1218 6 3
|
On the phone I asked my mother how she was doing.
“I’m getting old,” she said. “Going slow. But getting there. I’m ninety-four!”
My mother was always 94, when she was really 93. I remember she was 93 right after she turned 92. And 92
|
2147 21 9
|
"You come to nature with all your theories, and she knocks them out flat."--Renoir "Dreaming is free."--Blondie "I can't vouch for my ability to avoid dullness..the odd position in which poets find themselves explains their often-sentimental identification with the…
|
2263 7 7
|
we all want to go down / because nothing north can be good.
|
2138 6 2
|
A piece of her skull landed here. But it fell off. Then I couldn't find it.
|
1411 11 8
|
“The beginning was good. That’s what he likes. The moment when you’re driving in the open air and your hair is flying and your skirt is whipping up around your knees, and he’s smoking, of all things, and happy and looking at you."
|
1508 0 0
|
Her hair’s the color of LA at night
On such occasions when the Santa Anas
Have left the hills bone-dry and burning bright
|
1523 6 2
|
This wasn't going to be about her anymore.She tied her strong purple balloon to the neck of the wounded horse. Her skirt and her top felt like armor's breath. The tingle across her scalp felt warm. Small rug scrapes that made her think of her last dog, before she died.This…
|
829 0 0
|
or Hamlet,Great Denmark"No good can come out of this house of Berkeley, not ever, not to strut the great book of the world, or for any other discreet purpose." - the Upanishads "What is guile? Who is this Hamlet? Where smarts wounded Denmark? I need…
|
1526 1 1
|
so I tighten hands with my castaway and say/you failed to impress in your folded peacock dress
|
1374 3 1
|
Today is my birthday. Well, my assembly date, anyway.
|
1676 5 3
|
and that you once had / still sometimes sold savory pies out the side of a truck at renaissance fairs alongside your mum with her fake braid in a wrong color wrapped round her head.
& you called the sky 'corrugated' or 'promising as a line of chorus g
|
1078 2 0
|
Nothing came of the dust.
|