1339 4 2
|
whatever weaknesses you displayed//
as empathetic human fellow traveler,/
your command of English survives you,//
on into the last echoes of the human/
once we’re gone.
|
153865
|
The world is crazy that way— two people close to me gone around the same time and I'm supposed to go on and on like those dryers and smile still and do my schoolin' still ...
|
139522
|
He sees the dogs through the window, his babies, sleeping on opposite ends of the couch. His girl, lying supine, hind legs spread, grotesquely, almost comically, as far as they can without being flush with the cushion. His boy, Cosmo, face down, the power…
|
15964
|
|
147243
|
|
1530146
|
|
1862119
|
What if I never feel like a real artist? What does it even mean to be a "real" artist? What if nobody ever cares about what I make?
|
150855
|
There’s someone in the audience who is immolating himself
Cutting his own leg over and over with a pen knife
And groaning: “Oh God, oh God”
And all I can think from up at the podium is
This guy must absolutely hate these poems
I am reading
|
1314139
|
one season slips into another
|
171866
|
It was always your body that told so much --
lips working some secret out
|
133855
|
I heard that Hollywood is remaking “Thelma and Louise” with Christina Ricci and that dark haired girl who worked on a show that plays on the television. I heard it either from the internet or from a dream. I thought about looking it up, but I don't…
|
17971613
|
I wrangle word juice
from the Oxford American, sighing at photographs of blues musicians with solemn lakes for eyes.
|
16931910
|
Falling//
is something that comes quite naturally/
to puffed up things. Like the soufflé
|
142684
|
on cd I make
john hiatt does not smash
perfectly good guitar
|
174108
|
|
160264
|
bassackward/in the surreal/bathroom mirror
|
21361914
|
I'm sitting here listening to Nebraska and it's / breaking my heart
|
145011
|
another lonely drone holding still
|
18501010
|
I had some words, but the truth is they don't mean a thing because whatever it is I was trying to say to you always crumbles to the ground in front of you. I had some words, but the bullying wind was stronger than me and ripped them…
|
154898
|
It’s strange, what will become of me
What my life will be like
Since the animal in me
Is beginning to show on my back
Oh no, no, no
Women will never put up with this
I was afraid this would happen
They’ll think I’m only half a man
I’
|
15721710
|
my family's Scottish heritage
|
15051210
|
I. Two cancer scares since June, one came up nothing the other nothing much. (My breasts are dense: I know all about moles— little bastards don't have to get sun to go nuts.) My manuscript travels ether to…
|
1501189
|
I want to tell you how the odor of the flowers/felt her funeral day
|
15882110
|
The fly comes in against my will/
and hers. She would prefer/
the wider world with its piles of shit
|
166363
|
The poet said, ‘I feel the fell of dark, not day.” but day it always is. Bright! Bright!
the city claims its blue salutes; its stopping in mid-sentence at a name where fingers roam a stone.
|
13065
|
|
1721127
|
“If they look that good in shorts.” I warned him once, in a candid, humorous moment, “Then they’re probably too young for you to look at.”
|
235933
|
|
1704117
|
... he led what might be called a quiet life
|
14521413
|
Frenchie hustled waffle irons.
|
