1302 0 0
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There are three ways I can love you, not even half of one more.
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124121
|
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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1610
|
A baby carriage abandoned
in the middle of an avenue
emits a high metallic cry
we’re afraid to investigate.
|
13582510
|
Tendering these stalks, making the pie, heralds me a holder of apron strings...
|
64116
|
...pull a punch with meaning.
|
77100
|
I am brokenJust a sliver of what I used to beNot used to missing youStill.After months,You don't think of meAnd it breaks me.Every morning...by the time I've hit the closetI've thought of you.Throughout the dayI think of you.It is my hard place.I can't get over itOr around…
|
138163
|
My fingers are shining
in the underwater afterlife of memory
searching for the nipple-sized mollusks
searching for the solid nature of things
left over from having lived a life
at all
That new rain smell, specifically
I remember that,
|
90000
|
Dancers, dunces and brides-to-be
|
702311
|
|
501103
|
”How many lowers have you had? Why are you still single? “... Gentlemen should not ask these questions and ladies should not answer...
the deepest woman`s erogenous zone:
Why didn`t anyone tell me this before?...
|
1100
|
If I was a bum
I’d risk everything
for a drink or a smoke
I would beg and curse and steal
if I was a bum
If I was a bum
I would cuss out the Pope
I would not vote for anyone
because I would know truly
they’d be telling gross lies
|
62020
|
It is a strange world, dawn.
You may find yourself alone
with your God, the old, and the
young. Very likely a bird.
An old one out hobbling past on a cane,
a small dog trotting from bush to bush,
sniffing a pile of leaves,
jumping back, st
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18280
|
each word a simple life lesson draped in velvet
|
3110
|
Crying in his crib, tomato face red, my little boy is sick, fourth time to shit himself this morning. I pick him up, kiss him on the cheek. A baby's breath smells like butterscotch, their shit diapers like rhubarb pie. …
|
12542
|
Body hotand the moon gone downyou've left me to exerciseAnd our child is sickbut luckily she sleepsI sit at dawn imagining cursesI'll take us away fromthe strange voices andthis povertyAway from the self-assured,too, who have alwayscolonized poverty and do it againBack to…
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