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Are they too old for life's little pleasures? The answer comes as I pass them on the canyon road one morning.
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a boy with a gun, a skateboard, and spray-paint
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Dinosaurs, a little boy, a hapless mother and mortality.
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55 words, slightly naughty
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Marcy is two years older and got her period the summer before me. She thinks she’s a professor of everything, but she’s my best friend so I don’t say she’s being stupid or that her tangerine lipstick is smeared across her front teeth.
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skin cancer
walks along Zuma beach
at noon
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once she went to quenchthen she went to scrubnow she collects dead toadsgrinds them with cornmeal to feed her sowsonce she ploughed the land toiled with her face deep in dark soil her back burning in hot sunnow she works in the paper millmaking laminated labels for the…
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unsteady, they try to rise
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He remembered waking up on those lazy summer days hearing the sad song of mourning doves.
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I don't need to be toldhow natural you are, not here.I'm reminded every singletime I open my eyes.What I want to know iswhere have you gone? Whyhas it taken you so verylong to return? But Iknow the answer. You aresomewhere fighting for your dearlife. It's what we all do--in…
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Most nights while in his sleep, with his one good eye deeply shut, the old man can hear the whispers of the specter in the remote wanderings, holding the surrounding woodlands in its snare. The sound of it closing in, with the bones of the universe crushing in…
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Initially, she had no hopes about his impending arrival, scrawny as he was, until realizing that, because he was a boy, because he was new around here, he might want to wrestle.
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In one of the cartoons I watched as a child, Popeye the Sailor gives Olive Oyl a bouquet of flowers. She is thrilled, he walks on air, thinking they will marry. His one-eyed heroism is soon challenged by Bluto however, who pours cement into Popeye's bath. It goes…
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Together at last, we'd gotten this far toward the warm end of those sweet Promises we made, once, with our sincerest written and passed down smart Words, done all on our own deeds, with some real gusto, and offered them as Christmas Lights,…
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Lou Reed was sitting in CBGB,
I was sitting on Greenwich Ave. and West 10th street.
I didn't know him then and I didn't know him later either,
but we were both there.
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On his knees
he divinates diverging lines
with belly laughs he levitates
the rebel spheres into geodes .
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She said, “I think I’m pregnant,” but I thought that the sidewalk looked cleaner than usual,
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Compartments trickle together/
in light diffuse and unreliable./
Fortify yourself against the day.
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Ghosts//
and the voice of God/
never actually visited you
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It was all I was convinced / in designing the encounter.
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I packed food for a lifetime, clothes and boots, all the guns, and the audio of our poetry...
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The crumbling meccas/
gnaw/
Each fiscal year’s quota of blood and bone,
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Walking down an unfamiliar street, / I heard a sudden caw of crows, / some thunder afar, strums of a lute— / a streetcar came flying along.
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Because if they’re wavering, it's about the coin, always about the coin.
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So today was basically mellow. The blue jays argued over who would bathe first in my fountain. When a squirrel showed up, the birds left, but the doves took their place. Our local woodpecker, apparently recovered from a day long headbanging session, returned to the…
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