123996
|
|
109296
|
I let go of my properties, my work.
|
110967
|
The dead girl was his niece’s daughter. Only thirteen years old.
|
1120116
|
I said hey man, how you doin’? He looked up and nodded but his shades flashed and I couldn’t see his eyes.
|
153633
|
Two friends follow the train tracks by their neighborhood.
|
1170126
|
Every morning, Wilma's husband Richard would cross the street and visit with a neighbor, always after the neighbor's husband left for work. Wilma was a loner, never bothered with neighbors. She enjoyed sitting on her patio in her lounge chair,…
|
129666
|
Assimilated wheat germ
integrated ant worm
the capital of brazil.
|
106776
|
For decades the land the village sat on had switched its allegiance between two countries.
|
118126
|
|
1720145
|
And on nights like those I conjure Martha's childhood, a little girl who could make the whole world fall in love with her, with those goddam big seashell eyes, enticing adults to fall into a blue-green sea that never ends, never promises survival.
|
97286
|
That is a six-word story. Notice that the meaning does not change with the word count. Syllabic count: pentameter (ten). Keep these commas.
|
286885
|
I did not understand its meaning until college when I learned that Frost would take long walks—the inspiration for so many of his poems—and would leave his wife at home while he did. And just before he left, she would guilt-trip him just a little by walk
|
118866
|
With their brightly-colored bits of
found string
woven into the walls of their nests
to teach their baby birds
what the worms of the future
will look like.
Somewhat like the
cave paintings of Lascaux
for early man in France,
when hunti
|
70774
|
no matter where we sit or how we stare— / all parades now march away to one day.
|
187185
|
Albert Walks When Albert walks he is astonished. Ripe fruit falls to the ground at his feet, offering itself. The earth's tremor rumbles, celebratory, through his mended shoes and up his shins. The birds darting through the sky above …
|
124366
|
Then I am wearing a brightly colored raincoat while sitting on a deck among hundreds of tiny glowing spores
|
97186
|
It is the fragrance of decay/
as paint, polymers and dyes/
outgas molecules of themselves
|
10386
|
She doesn't think about bad things anymore. She used to worry about nukes. She'd imagine Hiroshimas everywhere. She'd imagine the seas rising, the planet a string of deserts, polar bears drowning, butterflies shriveling. The world…
|
58953
|
Yes keeps falling out of my mouth
|
113986
|
Our painter man was killed by a bunch of snotty kids who were making fun of him. A gun went off. What is a noodle to do? He wasn't sitting alone in his world, anymore. Where was his famous straw hat? His trusty pipe? He desperately needed to smoke…
|
1123136
|
Eric was born with three testicles.
|
1572175
|
I try to help my pet-mouse by dangling cheese from a piece of string in front of him. Or by making meow sounds. Sometimes, my pet-mouse wins, sometimes the hamster with the great body.
|
968115
|
There are no inspirations./
There are only the things I like/
and the much more numerous//
things I do not like.
|
167295
|
I found my black dot nucleus. School got me in the 10th year with the numbers spilling outta my head, but now I got the cell on my mind. Everybody's floating around this joint all pink and green college clean, yellow face Japanese, or the jet-headed Greeks with their…
|
186176
|
Her voice mail announced: “I’m coming for three days...Make sure the dog hair’s cleaned up, I have allergies.”
|
77576
|
Turningturning the pale grey spot.She sits in her carin the parking lotwith the radio onleaning back picking a thin piece of skin from her finger.Turningturningthe seagulls move aroundand aroundabove the asphaltas though it was the wave,with…
|
102076
|
the late snow, though not welcomed...
|
123166
|
This tall, very blonde, very female, friend of mine. . . .
|
101366
|
Two girls, twelve years old, run down San Pedro Avenue past the market, the middle school, seven driveways, their small chests heaving. The smooth soles of their Mary Janes keep slipping on the gravel driveways. Two men in a rust-orange van bear…
|
59155
|
At step blinding speed we all alight somewhere in the world
|