1390 6 3
|
Your finger quivers as it writes
Upon me words in water,
Words I cannot read nor drink
But feel them as you drink
Them with your tongue
|
90611
|
The old-timers at the Working Man’s Club wear a sheen of indifference every Wednesday night. Beneath the wafting, cresting mountains of burning cigarettes smoke, the train-track rattle of dominoes chipping at the dark wood tables in the corner, the consta
|
60800
|
Down Hawkling Street, The shadows have come and gone The bar, torn apart from the cold and lonely bullets The lights, they stay awake No more kisses She waits for the empty company A shallow visitor to use and abuse As she walks, they…
|
13922916
|
a world of probability against plague
|
109363
|
Her smile like fortune’s cannot be coerced but she opens her peignoir. He stares at the sullen bullethole between her breasts, dark blood welling slowly with each heartbeat. Does he bow slightly, turn away whole? You suppose not. She closes the door.
|
19974
|
Jeremiah Sherwood was Irish, Catholic, and gay.
|
13142
|
Legless dancer may you rest./We killed it, night tout a mile/your costumes to vagrants' arias.
|
100832
|
Life strikes another blow and away I go: back to the cave to sleep, read, write, dream, soothed by rocking chair therapy, spend hours on hours looking at photo memories, lighting incense and candles, crying, howling out the injustices smothering me. …
|
90511
|
Oh, but we have lost-- such treasured souls, at immeasurable costs. Oh, but we do moan and cry-- such treasured souls, no tangible, useable reasons why. Oh, but we whose hearts do bleed-- such treasured souls, we…
|
166899
|
feeling obligated to write/ is like feeling/ obligated to fuck.
|
16782118
|
sometimes the urge to write
is like the urge to fuck
|
1176125
|
I walked along the beach today, and there I saw them all; including the latest lost: little Tiven, Tommy, Michaela & my Paul. Grandma painted at her easel, set upon the dune. Uncle Eddie bent in half, laughing like a loon, Oliver growled…
|
15232
|
After the third time we had made love in as many hours,
I noticed as we lay in a trembling quiver of skin sweat beads
clustered like pearls or morning dew drops on your back.
|
93141
|
This day, oh, this day… shoved joy and gratitude in my face, then tossed in beauty and just a touch of grace. A Piping Plover set my sorrows by the side, nabbing morsels when it could, then racing from the tide. Junior Eagle perched…
|
121795
|
The instant you remember
gratitude
with enough focus to spring free its power...
|
