Sat Jun 12 2010 at 02:37:16 (10.1 years ago )
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5 (Crafter) / 1868
mission drive within everything
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Ode to George Foreman's Hands
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"All these years," he said, "I've been opening the window and making love to the world."
3 a.m and perched on a fence off the John Lodge Freeway, alternately kissing and watching firemen battle a cityscape ablaze
a cunning poem inserted between the ribs
A cute lady mechanic who fixed his engine and damn near broke his heart
a pinprick in the floor of heaven
A Walk in the Fluorescent Neon Pogo Fields
and me warm in the window, watching Brooklyn fall asleep under snow
As long as there are girls left to dance with this world is worth saving
At night, when we walked by the wall, the world seemed to fall down before us - the whole, far-off, dirty world.
Countries with rivers that drain into three oceans
Crazier'n a buck with tickwood fever
His smartphone lay in the road, its screen locked with music still playing through the earbuds.
holed up in the old cannery, i keep finding fingers in my dreams
human blood as anti-freeze?
I might have expected that the mushrooms would worship you
I sold a house with a ghost in it
I told her I could read her mind, but she didn't believe me. I could tell.
If only our tongues were made of glass, how much more careful we would be when we speak.
If poetry could describe the way you make me feel, poetry would be illegal. Or anyway I might get arrested.
In California everyone has a sports car
In the 20th century economics became a philosophy of life
In the city, silence is no longer silence but the memory of a noise
In the long purple evenings when rock n roll from WLAM blurred into night baseball from WCOU
In their millions the frog songs seemed to have a beat and a cadence.
infinity isn't anything until you are among the stars searching for something you lost
It was all awesome. Then the robots took over.
Kill the lights in the middle of the road
please keep your feelings inside the vehicle at all times
Put an unmonitored piano in a public place. It's the only real magic that exists.
Ruth holding up time with her beauty
She crashed her car trying to avoid a butterfly
she looks smilingly towards the future
She teaches a night class. Psychology 100, to be precise.
smiling in photographs was a concept introduced by Kodak
snowmobile ride always worth the ice weasels
Somebody has to live in the past. The future's too crowded already.
Spandex: it's a privilege, not a right
That was what her hunger was like: mesmerizing, directed, floating like a public secret just under the cloud cover.
The 80s ended in 1995
the best friends are the ones we'll meet tomorrow
The frozen north will hatch a flightless bird
the last time I clobbered a human soul it was over a red-nosed girl and a schoolbook in County Derry
The mediator between the hands and the head must be the heart
the morning snowdrops fall like dew in the sunlight and fill my heart with their icy cold and all i can think about is you
The papier-mâché dinosaur in her mother's toolshed, and its fateful escape
The smell of kittens that have been careless; the flowers and the beer cans emerging from the snow.
The strangeness of seeing another car on a late night back road
The streets were washed fresh with rain and a warm wind blew as I showed up to everything just barely on time.
There's something about a church that just gives you the need to giggle
This book was stolen from the Harvard College Library. It was later recovered. The thief was sentenced to two years at hard labor.
This is what history is: all those centuries of bodies. Bodies as tulips bent to the demands of light, colored into blossom, spent.
This place functions like an electrical outlet installed in 1969
we lived entire summers after midnight
Whoa, Big Gulps huh? Welp, see ya later
You are groovy. No, I mean it. Ask a fish. Ask the moon.
You hold water for those you love
August 1, 2020
The Writing Space
I fear that you are planning an aerodynamic mythological coup. I pray this does not interfere with our dinner plans.
Mighty Mighty Bosstones
Choose your words carefully; now throw them away
Who is allowed to donate blood?
John is Wearing a Nightie Magazine
August 1, 2020
Like a Big Dog
Forme of Cury
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