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One summer night, as I walked alone down the cracked sidewalk of Kentucky underneath a canopy of maples where the moonlight fell through branches and lit my path with uneven lines I wondered: where does the residue of lust and desire go when everything you want to…
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We stopped at the Western Summit of the Mohawk Trail. Below Richland lay in the valley. I could see all the way to New York State and well into Vermont. From memory, I picked out the Hoosac River running south under the railroad
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209522
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These things were indeed the wealth of our respective nations.
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123722
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“You own your own burial plot, but you don't own your home,” he'd said, and I couldn't help but agree.
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148322
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The rain fell from the roof. It fell from my voice and and my eyes. Toshiro's Kukichiro stomped gutshot through the mud with his katana. Young and beautiful, Mifumi died there on the screen though he doesn't really die for fifty or more years, they think from something…
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137632
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Six months ago, Gary hired a goateed designer to "defoliate" the office, trucking out all the ficus trees and spanish moss to make room for curved sheets of fiberglass and, as he called it, "negative space." Now, her voice echoes off the concrete floors.
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111061
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When the sex that is new and promising in its awkward moments is over, you turn to him. You expect that he’s figuring out a way to leave; the parts of you that know wait for him to stand up and put his clothes back on, quicker and with more eagerness than
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79462
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That new rain smell in your backyard, specifically I remember that, with you. And lying in the grass in a park with you on the 4th of July, maybe in Lombard, watching the blue/grey smoke of the fireworks drifting overhead after they went off, and the sm
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123551
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There was a knock at the front door of Apartment Number 9. Ace Quana tried to beat his wiener dog, Little Ace to the door, but he could not. For while Little Ace had stubby legs like wet…
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129741
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4. If the property line is a symbol, what about the neighbor girl's window, the flickering candle in her room, her black cotton panties?
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113132
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The smell of candy and burn... /A patriotic prose poem for the fourth of July.
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116931
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“That’s just Ryan W. Bradley—son of a bitch knows better by now.”
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66832
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There is an island behind the house in which I grew up. It is a network of bicycle paths and booby traps. The past is snared there.
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Her face had that strange preserved quality Maybelle saw in many aging Boomer women — like an old toy never removed from its packaging.
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157042
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He finds a beach ball and recreates humanity upon it. Kicking it down the shore he wonders how the little people must feel about each other. To place them on such a tiny globe almost seems unfair.
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174532
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The dismantled moon was not cold in our hands, but warm, smooth beneath its shell as baby flesh. The musk of its damp, stringy innards filled us with sorrow.
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107532
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Yesterday I saw Marco Polo getting a tattoo on East Olive. He was practicing Mandarin Chinese with the tattoo artist who was also Chinese. He got a yin yang symbol on his bicep. He looked to the east and saw the hills lift themselves into sky. He grimaced
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66911
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My grief is made up of
Demons fighting to
Claw their way first
Out of my eyes
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106532
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A short time ago, a man who lived near me got angry. He woke up one morning and torched his house, with his wife and stepdaughter still inside. He drove up I-35 to the Georgetown airport, got his plane, and flew it into the Echelon Building in Austin.
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The strawberries remind me of you,Fat and fleshy,Pimple-dimpled.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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114061
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It was the dead of winter. I took my father's shotgun from his closet. He kept it wrapped up in one of those khaki-colored gun tote bags that had a zipper running the whole length of the gun. It was a 16-gauge, single action shotgun. Anyone could tell wha
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108141
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It was one of those sweltering afternoons that San Diego endures only several times a summer. I'm riding on El Cajon Boulevard, with my friend John in his old Chevy pickup. John is a lifelong San Diego resident and fanatical Charger backer. He's talking up some…
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125922
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She knew there were a few rodeos in south Texas scheduled in the next two weeks. Mostly small-time stuff, but riders who hadn't had much luck might be inclined to improve their scores for the pro circuit. She guessed Lorenzo wasn't having much luck.
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Ellen and I stepped out into the hall to discuss the situation. Maybe we should make some sort of offer to purchase these paintings, because if it did turn out that they were for real, well, the value could be endless. Think of it. Vladimir Lenin, the pai
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97922
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In the small towns of central and southern Illinois there lives a very indecent sort of man.
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107042
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A walled city doesn’t let you out any more easily that it has let you in earlier.
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104881
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If you had a choice, be a poet or not,
I’d suggest prose for the lines that you jot.
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95542
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I remember this vivid dream I had once. Maybe you were in it? I’m not sure. There was a gang of spitting men outside this bar, standing beside a whole row of gleaming motorcycles, with tons of chrome, and I remember my dreams were their feathers. They
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