I stare at your tomato plants. You're not, I'm not pleased with the way they are growing. I try to think of ways to help them. I study them. What do I know about tomatoes? "Perhaps some nitrate," I suggest. But I don't know anything and now I've taken…
4 miesiące temu
Oh well, call it a life.
4 miesiące temu
All the secrets of past tense have just come my way, but I still don't know what I'm going to do next.
4 miesiące temu
I'm sitting here (at a cafe) thinking about writing a poem. What will I write about? I don't know. I just feel like it when suddenly a young man in a hurry walks up to me and says, "Can I use your pen?" There's an envelope in his hand. "I want…
4 miesiące temu
In her sweetness where she folds my wounds there is a flower that bees cannot afford. It is too rich for them and would change their wings into operas and all their honey into the lonesome maps of a nonexistent California county. When she has finished folding all my wounds…
4 miesiące temu
Forget love I want to die in your yellow hair.
4 miesiące temu
Too many lifetimes like this one, right? Hungover, surrounded by general goofiness, lonely, can't get it up, I feel just like a pile of bleached cat shit.
4 miesiące temu
Drinking wine this afternoon I realize the days are getting longer.
4 miesiące temu
Slow/dark . . . black/seeming approach: a plant by an open window.
4 miesiące temu
I sit here, an arch-villain of romance, thinking about you. Gee, I'm sorry I made you unhappy, but there was nothing I could do about it because I have to be free. Perhaps everything would have been different if you had stayed at the table or asked me…
4 miesiące temu
A lyrical want, an endocrine gland fancy, a telescope that I thought had no thorns have led me to a pain that I cannot pronounce. It gathers around me like a convention of translators for a language that does not exist with all those meetings to attend.
4 miesiące temu
Hilda, I keep wanting to write a poem in praise of your beautiful energy and because I like the Virgo grace of your ways. Funky as it is: I'm sorry, forgive me, I guess this is that poem.
4 miesiące temu
33-1/3 sized lions are roaring at the black gates of Fame with jaws that look like record company courtesans brushing their teeth with would-be rock and roll stars in motel bathrooms with a perfect view of hot car roofs in the just-signed-up afternoon.
4 miesiące temu
That's where I see your face, baby, on a tank all around the cannon.
4 miesiące temu
The alarm-colored shadow of a frightened ant wants to make friends with you, learn all about your childhood, cry together, come live with you.
4 miesiące temu
Pretty: except for the puncture bruises on her arm. Also, she's a little thin.
4 miesiące temu
A transparent bridge across the elbow of a dead duck beckons, friends, like a boiled radio station toward a better understanding of yourself in these crisis-ridden times.
4 miesiące temu
Mouths that kissed in the hot ashes of Pompeii are returning and eyes that could adore their beloved only in the fires of Pompeii are returning and locked bodies that squirmed in ecstasy in the lava of Pompeii are returning…
4 miesiące temu
He wants to fly, sitting next to me on the bus, reading a copy of Flight Handbook. He has one of the largest thumbnails I've ever seen. As he dreams of bird-like mannerisms, I stare at this thumb.
4 miesiące temu
A witch and a 6 pack of Double Century Ale that's what I want to do on a rainy winter night at her place.
4 miesiące temu