Stories tagged poem

Conversations With the Psychic Reader

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She said in all my past lives I’ve always been a woman and I’m stuck in this relationship and he’s not coming back so I should just move on and get over it I was a little sad but yeah I’m gonna go back to her one more time

The Sound Invisible

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“Behold!” cried the Lord, on a late September morning,

Woman in Pajamas Running in the Rain

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I think I know you and say so You’re like a woman I saw once in pajamas holding a child running in the rain The absorption of dreams in your arms Maybe because of a man named Donald who slept on his hair in 1972 and things have ne

The Ex-Boyfriend Checks in on Saturday Night by Cell Phone

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(originally appeared in Lit Up)http://litupmagazine.wordpress.com/poetry/rusty-barnes/Remind me never to call youagain after you get home late,for the familiar fear of the deadbolt noise,the shifty creak of your linoleum floor,the way you throw your jacket overthe sofa and…

A Chaos Theory

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—with spinster goddesses in the middle of things / circling looms.

Algae Freunden

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She had a strange name which I am ashamed/ To have forgotten, seven times, maybe nine,/ Her lips transgressors, wet with sourapple ...

Mothballs

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In the closet where her leather coat hung/ Are cedar things, some strange potpourri ...

Metaphor

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Don’t try playing with your shadow It can lead to serious consequences It will constantly follow you if you do It will always return like a bummed-out dog Playing with your own shadow too much could lead to insanity You should hide

Anna tries to recapture her poet within.

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He wanted, what would have been holding a child without any doubts.

Mourner’s Braille

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We set traps for bear rats.

Her Dream Princes

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They live a simple life..two solitudes by lamplight.

Air Plant

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Wild oats. Universal life. Girl with the pearl earring. On the train to Babylon, a dog asking questions, not just another dog on an endless search for good. Putting unhappiness aside. Dropping our pretenses. That is why we wanted to live the

No Flowers in June

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Of flowers there Are none In June No sun Upon my cheek The gentle breeze Stirs me not The smiles They cloud my vision Birds they Sing their songs But I hear Them not When tears Rain down My heaven.

OD

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In the corner of my room stand—like color guards— parallel stacks of batteries, each with a metal spoon, waiting patiently for me to heat up in the darkness, the quiet darkness, and pay homage to my…

Summer

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behind the hua pala you parted her skinny legs like reeds everything the good friction of pebbles over sand a quivering bow on the synthetic strings of a stratus violin