I have emotionsthat are like newspapers thatread themselves.I go for days at a timetrapped in the want ads.I feel as if I am an adfor the sale of a haunted house:18 rooms$37,000I'm yoursghosts and all...
She was a perfect freeway Mona Lisa.
Moonlight drifts from overA hundred thousand milesTo fall upon a cemeteryIt reads a hundred epitaphs
Excuse me, I said. I thought you were a trout stream.I'm not, she said.
30 cents, two transfers, loveThinking hard about you I got on the bus and paid 30 cents car fare and asked the driver for two transfers before discovering
The thought of her hands
Now it was close to sunset and the earth was beginning to cool off in the manner of eternity and office girls were returning like penguins from Montgomery Street.
I'll tell you about it because I am here and you are distant.
For fear you will be alone
Deer Tracks:Beautiful, sobbinghigh-geared fuckingand then to lie silentlylike deer tracks in thefreshly-fallen snow beside
30 cents, two transfers, loveThinking hard about you I got on the bus and paid 30 cents car fare and asked the driver for two transfers before discovering that I was alone.
The bees in my stomach are dead and getting used to it.
Money is sad shit
I’m haunted by all the space that I
He'd had enough suffering right now to last him forever with plenty left over for others if they didn't have enough and wanted to have some more.
Congratulations, I said. It's so wonderful to write a book. I walked all the way here, she said. I started at midnight. I would have gotten here sooner if I weren't so old. Where do you live? I said....
There are not too many fables about man's misuse of sunflower seeds.
Kadınlar neden buna benzer bedenleri olmasını isterler bir türlü anlamıyorum. Ne kadar acayip görünüyor, onlar da kalkıp böyle bir bedene sahip olmak için deli gibi uğraşıyorlar, ne pahasına olursa ol...
Punitive ghosts like steam-driven tennis courtshaunt the apples in my nonexistent orchard.I remember when there were just worms out thereand they danced in moonlit cores on warm Septembernights.
WoodWe age in darkness like woodand watch our phantoms changetheir clothesof shingles and boards