In place of
any answer I can only say this: Those years jutting out from inside of
my body are the sum of a moment that was never followed through.
I had rather
do nothing than be watched doing something.
And so I sit and move barely only my right hand.
you live long
enough you see it happen several times
the momentum starts at some point
still, this geometry of the city as seen from above looks more like
dirtied lace than traffic jams and searches for the perfect parking
branda c. maholtz
the pins of down banks / to dance the delay of the horizon
remembered nothing strenuous in the night and his chronically-aching
right leg ached chronically, his left leg ached sharply.
select list of creators whose work can be the new row ordering is
derived from the primary hearings may reap many valuable rewards
the legs in your pants, / angels and us, we are not angels and are glad.
verticals in a turn-of-the-century cushion
its foreigners in white caps
plus one equals. / The petals falling off the flowers but the birds.
As I dressed, you
took out your menthols. I bummed one even though I hate the flavor.
nicholas alexander hayes
polishes a light deeply
invited to paint an anger / on velvet using two expressions
ian randall wilson
There is no place
set for 'still'
cauternization of what the who / in treble with rakes a horse
/ because vocabulary. A dinghy in circles.
bittersweet” music is one reason.
rediscovered the celestial and the savage, paradise in which anguish is
THE FIVE TROPE DOUBLE
"all nine of them are air"
Yes, this is it, finally. What took us so long? We blame George Bush, yes, that's it. He gave Joel, Gunnar, and Gary such a case of the runs, and Mike Neff such a case of rat scabies, that 5Trope was put on hold until we had all finished courting and marrying four wealthy Brazilian widow-sisters living in NYC (Frida, Evita, Malefica, and Justicia) just so we could get health insurance.
repose is at hand / and surface eyes itself, /the living, all nine of
them, are air
ian randall wilson
seriously, avuncular, “So, fella, are you going to make a career of
thought she meant something / different from indifference, you see.
equilibrium question; Sexually discounted phone; jungle drum.
pronounced dead at 30,000 feet. Weather report in Chicago--Radiant!
Sartre couldn't have been prouder.
if only grey old
flower / shadows could get there, undroop, / then death (or slowly
dying) would pretty paint it- / self along shelfwalls
I woke and I
studied the alarm clock. It was three a.m. I stared up at the ceiling
and I listened. I heard the rustling of the branches. The moon was
do not get nearly enough sleep or enough exercise. I do not get enough
of the basic creature comforts. I do not get enough.
passage finding its way / To the upstairs pigment jewel / We stick our
noses in and o / How things change
The poet is a
lofty vision shaped by curves of snow and streaked with bending ski
runs, blue-white turning purple-pink at dusk.
this point, I’ll put forward a confused facial expression, and say
something like it must be an interesting experiment
telling me of a dream she had in the not-too-distant future where she
had raised a monstrous brood of children
grabbed my hand impatiently and led me into the kitchen. A baby was
strapped into a high seat. It had a shocking amount of hair. It had the
hair of Frankie Valli.
There are the
fallen and the brought down. / The wish for weightlessness, the want of
/ the wasp slides its slender head / into each cell its yellow legs /
like broomstraw embrace.
/ are more beautiful than / the apple, the cinema, / the clouds, the
cold snow, / the clown's.
wife-- she'll be gray-haired but then she went that way in one horrible
afternoon, the very day...
He kissed her
because her eyes, expectant, were buoyed at uneven depths.