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The snap of a broken heart is exactly One second longer than this poem is going To be when it finishes up being said . The snap Of a broken heart is unlike anything that Cartwheels out of sync with the rest of Us truly lucky ones. The broken snap of a …
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I woke like an animal / breeding thoughts like flies
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He hung up and I sang some whiney lyric about wanting him back. You know the songs that say the same shit: I’m an idiot. Love me anyway. I’m Velcro with nothing to stick to and you’re a nappy surface that gives me a reason to exist.
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My relationship with Uzma exists on several levels, from basic to abstract, from animal magnetism to spiritual journey.
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there she was, this beautiful duck with her 4 beautiful babies, under my bush.
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The smell of garlic, soy, and onions/
exhausted from Skillman Wok/
perfumes December air.
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And because the film is French, the camera pauses / long moments at the curve of her neck, it watches/ her finger vermilion tulips in a vase. Her new lover,/ a wisp of a man, looks good in leather./ The camera pans quickly across beige suede,/ rests long
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As long as he could still take the stairs, he would go down there to be with the memories that each piece held. He knew that their time was about up, because his was too. His wife had already gone, and even before that she had long stopped using the washe
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Death is both alien and intimate to us; neither wholly strange nor purely one's own.
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In the morning, Alan woke with only a half hour before he had to be at work. He pulled his clothes out of the dryer and folded them on the top of the washing machine. On the side of table he noticed, in among people’s old, stray socks, a button like one
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I'm putting makeup on my face. The woman next to me is reviewing legal briefs.
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War The once shining lake was busy draining itself. All the better cared for boats were looking like disjointed discarded single shoes in a messed up paint chipped closet. No one was thinking well okay a leaky sole is better than a wounded heel. You get the…
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The Sobriety Group met at four every Wednesday night, just in time for the seven members to get a good table at Patrick's bar to drink beer by six. “Beer's not really even alcohol,” laughed one and then all. …
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when thoughts of you
waffle in through memories scent
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One/
can’t always trust the eye and ear//
in such matters but what can one do?/
Mistakes will be made.
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Eating Grief at Bickford's · From Allen Ginsberg's “Kaddish” There are no places anymore Where I can sit at a threadbare table Pick at the crumbs on my plate And wipe The white dust From my pitch …
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A woman is fishing in the Seine at the far left
of the painting, while time is suspended and light
remains. One man plays a trumpet. A half dozen
people sit or walk under parasols. Couples stroll
and children run or sit or stand beside their
par
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A drunken evening, both men soused and twitchy. An argument ensues with Yellow House roommate Paul Gauguin. The two dissing each other’s work like clicking beetles
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skies electric blue,/limpid dewy air, the world/framed by a small farm.
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Energy is constant though it may manifest/
as dust motes atop the housing of your monitor/
and in the fibers of the filter of your fan coil unit
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Wait for it. It's not the end of the world, it's the end of certain things. It's not that the sky is falling, it's that the coral reefs are dead or dying. I don't know how the ravaged trees have managed to survive this long with us breathing…
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I thought I heard
Follow your heart
On the cold, cold
Night of the soul
I thought I heard
Follow your heart, follow your heart
On this coldest night
Of the soul
Leaves on fire, leaves on fire
They told me look
Into the flames
To
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Half way through our cigarettes she told me her name was Charlotte.
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You better read the papers
If you don’t understand
Cause as of last night
I’m a one-man band
You’d better walk through water
With your boots on fire
Cause Baby I don’t think
I can take this any higher
You’d better find out what I dr
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no one else comes in my back door but you
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At night, I wake up, and Daddy's in the bathroom with a hanger in his mouth....
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. . . the greater length of the so-called “Montebaldi Corridor” can still be walked without the least exposure to direct sunlight as long as the traveler is not active from 9 am to 3 pm local time.
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