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I know I shouldn’t brag, but you bought me roses, a dozen. I felt I could balance anywhere, when I was with you. I could achieve poise on the head of a pin. There was no need to hide anything, and I heard night music wherever we went. I sat with lovers,
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But not once did we mention heaven. The next day we bought another one.
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When my brother returned from his appointment with this eerie investor fellow in the silent Rolls Royce Silver Arrow, he appeared in my room in dark blue sweats with a broad white stripe, and he herded me into the living room where everybody including F
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Tonight, Bukowski and I drink together.
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Okay, I’ll admit it, the earth was shaken on the world's underside, when you left for California. And I sometimes slept on the shores of Lake Michigan and Fox River for your tremendous thousand years’ charisma. To say I cried out in pain would be lettin
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"How could anyone say that I was wrong, that I was crazy?" These thoughts scraped across her mind and tore open the reasons she had knitted herself into over the years.
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Julie had a thousand freckles the
color of mud.
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As soon as he neared his neighborhood newsstand, handed over the exact change and had The New York Times in his hand, Irving switched from feeling he had no choices, to feeling he had a future.
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It's important to sound
human, I know
To get fragile
near your
mother
I myself
get glimpses
now and then
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Rumpelstiltskin cried
because you belong to me;
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How can you stop a man from running naked through your dreams? I want to know. This ought to be taught, somewhere. In schools, or somewhere. I could never stop you from doing what you wanted with me, and didn’t want to either. You had complete leave of
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. . . I just didn’t think to call the mortician from the phone outside the grocer’s store, how gauche that would have sounded to any passers-by, a call to a mortuary from outside a grocer’s store!
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Ever the chance we were given, with luck always, fate. At least we engendered the song and the drink. Having sailed from the goddess of sensual love, having the best throw that beauty allowed, now you can call it will, though some will call it hate.
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George Herbert, poet and Anglican priest, died of tuberulosis in 1633 at age 40. His friends described his last three weeks in sickbed, attended to by them and members of his family. They recorded his words: "I now look back on the pleasures of my life past, and see in…
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Odd bookends
stuck in familiar territory,
we have become lethargic
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The Fat Man took a sip of whiskey, then replaced his glass on the table next to his fedora. …
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The sky was dressed in a wedding gown. The hooves of my horse clicked like consonants on the stone of the butte.
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She looked over from the passenger seat at her husband and smiled. It had been twenty years. She hadn't expected him to remember. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, placed her hand on his thigh.“We'll be home soon enough,” he said. He was not…
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“You’re off till Monday,” the big man told him. “You can thank Mr. Big Mouth and company for that. Death detail gets two days off.”
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Nearby a figure wearing a long coat has just walked into the water.
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Anastomose my veins to / yours so we may / share // a dream pooled between us
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The cabin has windows all around, like ribbon tying a birthday present.
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seven birds on the wire turn in unison to the right
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The other night while we stood in the kitchen locked in each other's stone silence, he finally said, “You're waiting for something to get you to the other side of grief. But there's no such thing.”
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Everyone wants to feel like the world has lined up against them and any achievement they have been able to attain was done despite the best efforts of everyone who isn't them. That's a given.
But there is one group of people who seem to have a point.
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The grasshopper leaps
And bounds through the green meadow
Fleeing from it’s foe
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We all heard the audible skill you had, speaking smoothly of our lives, saying audibly what has driven us, who are huge with night, rising with its origin inside, and clear water running past, beyond, behind, and after us.
To honor, to fear utteranc
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We got Bob Dylan on the wall
wriggling from the lack of music
and light among the spheres
A great doubt has been raised
and can be seen from far, far away
for they are even afraid now in heaven
that things can’t be going right
and to
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To assist you in recalling some of Episode One of - "A Poem by Jasmine Coriander-Semolina": My head lifted up slowly as I looked up through a gaussian blur of fragrant incense smoke and saw she was crying. She whispered that her daughter, Pastina, was last…
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Hey Handsome Rich Kid / Do you want to go boink boink in your Benz?
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