1194 10 8
|
My sister / craves raisons
|
1226117
|
Lucky for mama, he doesn't like for his women to work.
|
223278
|
Momentarily Winston’s thoughts muddled again. He felt his fingers twitch, a physical sensation which seemed to accompany any recollection from the past. Most of his memories were moments he’d reiterated so many times during his stay in the Ministry of Lov
|
136866
|
|
927128
|
meditation and thoughts run in circles
|
111498
|
I don't think you understand. A sad boy doesn't just die inside, slowly he becomes withdrawn from certain types of lovely youthful reasoning out loud, accustomed to feeling what is expected of him, just to be allowed to survive another…
|
120589
|
I’m deathly afraid of the pub crawls
of my ancestors, through Bohemia and Fitzrovia
because of the ghosts of alcohol already
etched inside my veins
and the headlong loss of oxygen
|
1736108
|
"good luck, and be assured acceptance for representation or publication is based on different criteria at different agencies and we are sure you will yet find someone mentally deficient enough to give your book a shot."
|
1605117
|
I'm trying to read a Poetry in Motion poem on there wall of a crowded electric train
|
1530117
|
My dad at the wheel, my mother's ulcer inflamed, she puked her way across northern Alabama that summer, from Huntsville and the rusting rockets to Tuscumbia, the farthest any of us had been west. We drove through raw, blistered towns,…
|
146298
|
Sleep is a steep comfort these stock-still nights -
the ceiling an artexed breadth of angst,
the blue power light of the laptop in the corner
exhorting me to turn it on
|
110297
|
Sex is a fetish war --
a battle of trinkets of desire
|
158896
|
In the evidence of broad daylight, in the secrecy of darkness, in drizzling rain that teased the embers, Annabelle worked hard.
|
1264108
|
Toxins make a body happy/
as if acceleration toward//
an end of consciousness/
is its own reward.
|
1394136
|
The clacking ventilator reminds me of ice cubes rattling in your highball...
|
100198
|
The falling may continue//
forever.
|
107487
|
He disrobes; shoes, socks,
shirt, belt, pants. He smells of hard work.
The nude whisper of everything else.
|
125856
|
Just like D-Ray White’s tapping still bounces off the mountains if the right person is listening, Hasil’s hoots and howls are trapped in record wax like a blood-drunk mosquito in amber.
|
112398
|
They articulate my failings as a human being./
They articulate my greater rage at human beings//
here for such a short time and at the precipice already
|
107588
|
Able to search through centuries, I click, scribble, skim,resurrect wet stone walls, the smell of burning peat.Bob's your uncle; Peggy's your aunt.Name your family, child. My brother said helloto Uncle Shirley and Aunt Greg. I was more…
|
1298138
|
|
1020108
|
If you stop, you starve//
and they just offer what you do/
to others, starved already,/
and schooled, as you, in servitude.
|
1503135
|
The Fuddy-Duddy Writer does not do wit.
|
95998
|
with peaty aromatics, opened,/
and a welcomed sting, swallowed,
|
1215148
|
|
134465
|
You may think you've tasted envy, but yours was just a sour sip of wine at a civilized wine-tasting. Mine is bottom-shelf, well-brand gin in a biker bar with miss-the-urinal piss stains on the floor.
|
853127
|
If you ask me I'm thinking I'm just blowing off some steam, some hot air that doesn't add up to the old cliche of a hill of beans. A hill of fucking beans.
|
111898
|
It's as if the house knew I was relinquishing my hold on it.
|
106688
|
Sunlight and the small wind/
swallow the frost/
on rooftops and windshields
|
1096138
|
Now, if someone is tellin' you that she had a date with Edgar Allen Poe, you might be tempted to say, "Hey, sister, what kind of drugs you be doin' for the last two days?" But I swear on my Aunt Boo's chastity belt that's what went down and with my…
|
