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They asked each other at Court-suggested AA meetings: What can Texas do but throw us in jails already packed with low-life scum?
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I do not come with a cardboard sign or tip jar.
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Sometimes Seattle's the next thing to heaven. The sky's diamond blue, the sun's a caress; your whole soul can breathe. You know what the shouting's about. But the sun quickly fades to Protestant gray and the gray last a long…
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"If you don't like it then leave!" Sally screamed.
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state a shambles, mountains and rivers endure./meanwhile, the city hides amidst spring's thick growth . . .
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Looking back now, examining from a distance the sequence of events I failed to connect as anything beyond queer happenstance...
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My swinging purse sent saucers tinkling to the tile and the copper-headed waitress flew over, swooping on the shatter, clutching clean forks like a handful of flowers.
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My friend and I were once walking the aisles of a supermarket because we decided we were going to have roasted duck. We didn’t know how to cook, but as the old Filipino reds used to say: If not now, when? If we don’t learn how to cook now, as in NOW, then
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In principle, Sergeant Brock Lumley resisted superstition, but if you were to stop him on any given day he was patrolling Baghdad streets with his rifle squad and ask him to open the front left ammo pouch on his flak vest, he’d get this look on his face..
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Where exactly is your head at, dude?
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the wiggly word / floats toward the crowd
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She says he is not a real person. He says he doesn't understand. And that she should be with the dudes who want to be her boyfriend.
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Somebody pushed the automatic fuck-you button today,
not the due-to-the-volume-of-submissions-we-receive button,
nor the it-does-not-fit-our-editorial-needs button;
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Love is music
timed in heartbeat
move to rhythms ages old
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A full moon in the morning sky, the sun hasn't bothered to rise and why should it, see how unnecessary it is, left over from a sleepless night, it stayed there, in suspense, waiting to see what you could possibly get up to next. A patron saint for lost ca
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"And yet she always went on writing, even when nobody cared if she did or not: if she stopped, she told an imaginary prosecutor in her diary, 'I will not have earned death.' "
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I want to tell you how the odor of the flowers/felt her funeral day
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“What sort of truck was it in Texas?” Carlisle says.
“Small as truck goes,” Mill says. “Smaller than a full-size pick-up.”
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At some point we all reach the end point/
of something. Something important/
if only to our fragile self esteem.
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Their dump was like no other in the country. It was bigger than the rest. And, unlike their innumerable competitors, this dump—which sat packed with trash on the surf of an ocean—was organized with care.The Elks took pride in their dump. Three…
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When flash and bang merge you are, according to the manual, in deep do-do.
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I went out through another cold still morning erasing my steps behind me not because I did not want to be followed but because I did not want to find my way back again.
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why were ghosts in wry mirrors feeding on hope?
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for spirits and demons have no life/
but what imagination gives
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thus is life conjured with music: human life / with human music human souls human earth, / hot souls the cherished fruit of the hot earth beneath.
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The consequences follow from here:
the shine of forbidden knowing
the apple soon offered to Adam
the twined Serpent’s hidden fangs
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in moving cars i am small;
in moving cars i am invisible.
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Nothing changes; the moon arcs its mindful lemon eye. . .
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Her memory was a faded pastiche of the past, and indeed the present sat uneasily in the middle of the dreams that governed her mind; so it was that often she would forget the day, the time, the year.
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It was the absence of small sounds he felt most. The clink of a spoon against china, a floorboard’s distant creak, the swish of that old, broken-toothed comb through her hair. A thousand tiny sounds that had proved he wasn’t alone.
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