200 25 19
|
|
123255
|
While the other kids blew bubbles, Maddy clung to my neck. She didn't cry or scream, and she held on loosely, not with the death grip some kids have. For five Wednesday afternoons, Maddy wrapped her pudgy arms over my shoulders and rested her bottom on m
|
5542
|
Schizoid, with the forked faces of untenable survivors, we drink a water so soiled in lives.
|
1571917
|
A striking breath of lovely, then it's gone.
|
980
|
My window to the pole star?
|
61861
|
The Trust Fund editors said they are leaving Germany. They have been there while I have stayed home to tend American refugees.
|
91611
|
It must be some sort of Freudian twist, but as her cold fingertips draw rings on my navel, I think of my mother. Here, her body watches my tongue, asking my lips to curl into the letters of her name. I can't get erect. I remember my mother's face—her eyes almost…
|
640
|
|
1323108
|
Do you think that’s a good idea, you said. Sure, I said, as the men coiled up the anaconda and put it in a second truck that had arrived. You don’t think anyone will wonder what our motives are?
|
840
|
|
840
|
judgment on silence, on darkness, on empty heads and bellies
|
820
|
the world crumbles to nothing
|
96000
|
Rosea plays a bohemian plainsong for the cosmonauts among us, while her fuzzy apple hips spit glitter, spin strobes: pink shades of pantyline flicker; lip-licked neon hues scrape strings in B sharp, a gloomy clue.
|
100700
|
Can you see the rut? Can you dig your fingers into the flesh?
|
740
|
everything part of the flow
|
