Tuesday, November 19, 2019
I saw his eyes but did not tremble. The tongue flicker was one I practiced for years until every woman said I got it right and turned into me. Or perhaps they turned on me to dissipate the male and light their privates at both ends. But this is only to unmitigate no circumstance—I admit to flinching when his...
another fucking boring night of light blue ripples of poolwater dumb white lights over steam haze black night snooze and what's left of the cheap beer my wife's been passed out for three hours I drank the good wine in the sun of the afternoon that feels like a thousand days ago I'm listening to some lounge chair...
had a tooth missing in front, and when she talked, it made a whistle. Peggy Whistle was 43, loved Scotch, and worked nights at the D&J Diner. she also loved her little dog, Blue. Blue came to work with her and slept on a ratty old pillow in the back, lifting his head up every time the door opened and the bell above it rang. Peggy never whistled any tunes, although you can’t say she didn’t...
and I stepped on it. I heard its little head pop and crunch. There was love juice on my shoe. I heard love dripping in the basement and I almost threw up. I hear love on my radio all the time. Some people try to analyze it and they write it all up in newspapers just...
I. Substitute Teaching In America, acting is frowned on. People are looking for passion. People want to know how much you care. They expect burn-out. Two years of hard work is all anyone can manage. You give your all; you’ll be a star. They want you to put yourself at their mercy. Then crash and burn. Everyone understands. The...
hotel room in little rock there were three of them forceful drunk too angry to care whether she lived or died she swung the cardboard pizza box like a machete it was all she had I try not to depend on anyone I try to understand easing the monsters. They never really settle, do they? It's not really you or him or anyone. It's me. I can't...
the publication of my latest book, i looked at the short stack of poems that remained in a pile on my desk. i threw them out. free, at last, i turned to the keyboard and smiled.
I felt its weight on me throughout the long last weekend of freedom. Nothing but drinking beer, smoking pot, laying around with my naked wife, listening to Duke Ellington and sweltering at the dawn of July: The Last Weekend in June, July one comes the job and they'll watch me and I'll have to learn their complicated shit, their personalities, where to...
was older than he looked, was impressed by the smell of his own farts, lied about everything, never held a job for long, ate everything, drank anything, and changed his shorts no more than once a week. Tony had 3 bad marriages, 4 shack-ups, and that one month he never cared to talk about. i liked Tony.
since I’ve dreamed anything that was not nightmare This spring with goslings in the roses, tulips and crocuses pushing color thru crystal ice, I hardly notice the wood ducks. I don’t hear geese in flight. I used to dream goose music, scan black ripples walking back from the pond. Before I photographed the last light glowing in dark woods the sun gulped. Just one tree on fire as if glowing from within