1599 4 5
|
. . . a visitor from the preceding century would have been aghast to the point of vomiting to behold the regard with which pandas were now held almost universally.
|
107854
|
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136764
|
It was 6 a.m. when the phone next to the bed awakened Francesco.
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114154
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I have constructed this emotion with tinfoil and stilts. I wear the mask of a typewriter. I have roots in Minnesota. I have a glass hat and a junkyard monstrosity pregnant with parables.
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126053
|
An electromagnetic pulse/
scrubbed the servers./
The clouds wisped and blew away, empty./
Markets lost what little mind they had.
|
177535
|
The vampire donated floodlights so the children could play ballgames at night. The lights came on but the dugouts remained vacant. The vampire sat alone in the bleachers. “Sometimes I am less than the sum of my parts,” he said to the sum of his parts.
|
154654
|
It turns out I know a thing or two about momentum. I know, I know. Like the crescendo of your bicycle wheels. Like the force the florist put on the stems the day Linda died. The way my fingers spin between planetary mass. This is how I know I’m not real
|
1432104
|
"Middle class workers and working class poor and the unemployed will soon be forming a revolutionary movement to break this stranglehold of corrupt elites."
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174774
|
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100654
|
once he had planted Lucille things changed./his emptiness rivalled the hollow grave/dug for her . . .
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106844
|
“It’s okay”
Her psychic from Santa Fe
Said on the speaker phone:
"live
and
love
and
create
otherwise
chaos"
|
139193
|
This is me pitching a recently completed screenplay to a film producer at lunch the other day:
|
113953
|
He went for long, quiet walks. These seemed to quell the seething rages swirling about him as he exhumed and reconstructed the truth of himself.
|
1594113
|
In May of 1982, my daughter and I planned a trip…
|
152063
|
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.
|
91464
|
"The opposite of fear is not courage but compassion."--Peter J. Gomesyou are going to die amost pitiful death from your own tearsof crushing boredom. Crying overyour self you will probablynever understand how it is asimple blue-capped flower savesthe world,…
|
140064
|
"You'll be alright! Just pinch your nose!"
|
208344
|
“I changed religions for that baby.”
|
109743
|
The brain had elected itself Judas, sleazy loud with silver jangling In this grand guignol of new and quickly old concussion Limbs roasted themselves to occult temperatures Yet remained whitely chilled under air that strove to rub, scrape, signify …
|
135854
|
A poem not about fog written in fog with an erasable pen.
|
138754
|
what lion lies/ o king of flame/ upon your golden crown?
|
134284
|
A man bows his head
and crosses his chest
before crossing the street
and the rain keeps falling
on his bare blue shirt
and on top of his head
The taxis will not stop
The light’s still red
as the man waits
for the sign of the hands
|
115254
|
At night, we’d sleep in our usual spots on the edge of the bed - Becca on the left, me on the right with Hanna in the middle as before the accident.
|
78143
|
So how do I know all this about Sammy, you ask? I’m getting to that...
|
125744
|
Once upon a time I sat in summer chairs beside cool vine walls. This was in a borough east of the major city, where families gathered in seasonal joy, by blooms fragrant, to worship the summer and its might. There is nothing diminutive about the world when one is…
|
177574
|
So no one ever caught sight of Eleanor picking her nose; besides, that wasn't what she was doing.
|
1590102
|
She was about 35 or so and noticeably pregnant. She was near hysteria when she knocked on our apartment door, right across the street in L.A. from a convent. But she took one last desperate wild look at me, standing at the door. I saw the animal in her ey
|
136322
|
what was she like you ask? smarter than me for instance she could type alot faster. and she didn’t worry constantly about being poor or having a family looking over her shoulder. maybe that’s what she did with boys. 17 years later and she is in my bed
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129144
|
I just sit here thinking
You’re cheating on me again
It’s how you acted last time
The same as it’s ever been
Don’t wanna go ballistic
What’s inside your head?
Why don’t you just tell me
Who’s been sleeping in that bed
|
130584
|
Do you know this song, Julia? I happened upon it one evening and only just before meeting you, a month before meeting, a month before arriving?
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