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Well, I finally checked myself into this what you call a “ Facebook Rehab Clinic” up here just about 40 miles outside of Kalispell, Montana in a little town called Gulag and, as I'm sure you can guess, there's no posting or commenting or liking anything anymore…
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Call him a hobo or homeless or bum or junkie.
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We discussed the epic poems/
and agreed to write a new one.
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he thought of her / longingly
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I couldn’t parse the grammar of her body
nor decode the secret softness of her neck.
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It is a day of swallows and grasshoppers, of white clouds and suntanned arms. In the yellow field wheat ears burn, lit by fantasies. One of wheat, one of rye. Summer love, holiday love is in the air. Under the thickness of the harvest, their roots search, call each other.…
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Children imagine dying all the time, especially when someone in their life, someone close, has died. Children's games often include pretend dying, flopping around after being shot for about three minutes, choking, falling to the ground and…
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His feet are the size of thumbs, the segments of his toes no larger than grains of rice.
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We'll Thelma-and-Louise it, I urged, Bonnie-and-Clyde it, she bettered, Sundance-and-Butch it, I proffered but she was already leaning in for a kiss.
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I'm sure someone somewhere must havefelt something like it before. Imean I've never been able tohave this kind of deep longing asif you might want to forget everythingyou know. I always figured that funny stuff onlyhappened to folks in a foreignfilm. Not to some guy…
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A lot of people are like this--they thrive on On conflict My bartender is that way-she likes the Confrontation She wants to fight and argue and haggle And I never related to this In anyone Well, people are scared, or pretend to be Scared at the bar. Some…
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How could he care less what those below thought, when everything below him was demonstrably beneath him?
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It came up heads so he is going first. He puts on a condom and gets in
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I visited the grave of Rimbaud. / It was pale blue
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to say that he was
doing fine
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Stupidity is not a mask; it is the face / and it is the face that betrays us / always.
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The list of things to live for/
shortens with age. The list of regrets/
lengthens.
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Each little token is the world/
as you knew it at each time and place
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Girl with glasses and
skinny fingers
playing with wires
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Maybe it takes as much fortitude
To forget
As it does
To remember.
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In my upper room, a sermon/
was playing about sundry.
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Not only half-full/
but stress-fractured
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Life was small. It was tiny even, so tiny it was hard to see it sometimes. Life curled up to make itself even smaller, to fit into the kinds of holes that insects crawl into to get away from bigger insects. Life was sad. Life didn't want to be an insect.
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I don't know how long I was down on the curb. When I came around it took several minutes to realize that it wasn't the moon overhead at all but a street light and the sticky feeling stuff I was lying in was, yeah, my blood. And the hand on my shoulder wasn't hers. I…
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As I go by I see five, six high school kids standing on the corner waiting for the bus. They are huddled together like a bunch of ducks....
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People huddle in their basements like kittens. People laugh, darkly, saying they'd rather be surfing. People wonder if their batteries are charged. People never do get what they want. People grow tired of the sad dog following them around. People want you to know how…
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