Dear Greta |
Dear Greta,You're such a wonderful girl. I'm so glad I met you last night.Love,your imaginary headache
Posted by on Thu, 01 May 2008 23:50:00 GMT |
Sorry but it was beautiful |
Sorry I took your money and burned itbut it looked like the world falling apart when it crackled and burnedso I think it was worth it.After all you can't see the world fall apart every day.--kid named...
Posted by on Tue, 22 Apr 2008 00:14:00 GMT |
parentheses |
I exist within parentheseshowever invisible to meThey seem to definequite a sidepoint, &n bsp; an unasked-for comment &...
Posted by on Fri, 04 Apr 2008 11:55:00 GMT |
"what a beautiful day" sighs |
What a beautiful day, the happiness of my life boils down to these few bright spots, like ducklings drowning under the sunlight. It is the little things on a day’s journey into the confabulatio...
Posted by on Fri, 28 Mar 2008 01:08:00 GMT |
found this one from my first year of college. I called it "A cold walk" |
I am not so glamorous as Carinda Bell, not so brave as Kalla who I'd guess is curing old women in Cambodia with her thin tan arms and gauze as ...
Posted by on Mon, 10 Mar 2008 20:34:00 GMT |
mon MOON |
I remember nights when the moon flatly brooding, cut-out circle of my mother's thigh, palely sifted flour, grooming the dough, combing light like skin and knitting it softly above.
Posted by on Mon, 10 Mar 2008 20:28:00 GMT |
about a weird name |
I wanted to extract the sediment that the life of a Raphael Amoeballet must accumulate through the unconscious seduction of that name. I emailed him on the office network. He taught archaeology on t...
Posted by on Wed, 15 Nov 2006 20:10:00 GMT |
Discourse on the Sublime |
getting pregnant in response to this stanza by M. Python:Immanuel Kant was a real pissantWho was very rarely stableHeidegger, Heidegger was a boozy beggarWho could think you under the tableDavid Hume ...
Posted by on Sun, 01 Oct 2006 17:54:00 GMT |
I'm no rocket scientist |
I've got a live rock in my pocket,
not a rocket, because it stays
and hangs around in the fabric's saddle
without a measure for its weight.
I've got a sad eye in my face
that lolls inside its i...
Posted by on Mon, 27 Feb 2006 09:25:00 GMT |
a found poem that me and joao found last night |
You didnt know that they were waiting
for you, the cobblestones with their
pubescent dimples that collect the dirt and smile
up at you, theyve been waiting for you. Not to
tell you anything, th...
Posted by on Tue, 15 Nov 2005 20:01:00 GMT |
