2017 9 7
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1The Bird King has fallen in lovewith a radiator.He adoresher pockmarked skin,her neurotic arias,her coldness,her impulsive warmth. 2Tiring of his dalliance with the radiator,the Bird King woos an armchair.She's amply upholsteredand groans dreamilywhen he sits on…
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God's real name is Frank, and he stops by all the time. He tries to dump that cheap Xmas candy on us.
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It was only when blood began to drip onto the page that he realized he'd been hit.
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the pressure from my lungs threatened to burst my eardrums.
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By the sixth - Dizz, Falstaff buzzed - Croons - The Wabash Cannonball
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As soon as I discovered that nasty thing the grownups called “sexuality,” I just knew it would get me in a lot of trouble some day—with Jesus, my parents and some yucky boy—so I hid it. But my Mama and Daddy noticed my sinful sexiness way before I knew I
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Beyond a jade gate, a lotus pillar nods to / a braided fort.
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Adam, bronze and lithe, runs laps on the beach
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He got tired of the pool party, the chit-chat, the suburban posturing, and he decided to swim home.
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He said stuff like
‘Crikey that's a knife',” she said, “it was bad, really
really bad.”
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So greenThe road winded its way like a terrier tail but without wagging. Cream white snow and warty as country roads are with their noisy gravel which crackled under my schoolgirl shoes. I can still hear that noise when cars pass in front of my house, the tires…
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After school watching American Bandstand with my two best friends, all three of us lusting after Bunny Gibson who’s all of sixteen, stacked, and very fucking hot.
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She sings off-key while her married lover shadow-boxes his one-dimensional and split-off selves.
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I attended the burial of our affair when I found the notebook-maybe it should be called her diary-she had foolishly forgotten, leaving it on the deck of my beach house where she stayed while I was on that short trip to Chicago and I was numbed at first, unsure how to…
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no need to write it if you/
live it, conscious of the light, the/
shape, the sound, the taste, and shadow.
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I turn my head. Time starts running.
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I travel over your body with small feet,
reach your heart.
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Hurried, hassling suit in front of me is being awful to the barista. So she refuses to serve him, turning away.
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Just beyond the corkscrew slide / the President of Egypt was bleeding to death
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May the timing belt stand the stress again
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...Rabidosa rabida- no spinner/
of webs but a quick and cunning
solitary hunter. Anxiety overwhelmed
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Winter melts to ashes and now we walk where hillocks dip like pillows, where a warm pocket of air keeps the scent of spring beauties for itself. Sensitive vetch so easily shocked folds under a feather yet the earth trembles where trout lilies shove. Buds stall on lilacs…
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Your self-effacement hid/
so much of you//
until you died and the full/
inked legacy shown in light
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He nuzzled the breasts with his face for a moment, his leathery skin and tangles of hair tickling her in the process.
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When they were seven, he’d taken them out to the desert and let them shoot a .38 at rusted cans. The explosions rocked them back on their heels.
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His self-assurance says/
he’s practiced in the art/
of self-deception
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It seems that back in 1911, Kaiser Wilhelm came to this town
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The blues were born on the ghost train that rolled through the Delta and gave Memphis breath back in 1902. It's low moaning sound brought young black men running, dogs hot in pursuit, toward glory that danced in a moonlight…
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