Poetry

After we had burned on the water a while, amid the chopper-borne shouts, flares, and thrashing rope ladders, we put into quiet, dark rooms. I couldn’t touch you through my walls – my nails screeled into chines. Why had they bored lights in me like that? You must have known we were set on sand….

POEM thicken volition cushion      Tom Raworth the lace teenagers’ orphanage      Victor Bockris SUNSET lie down in yellow flowers it’s the whole world      Andrew Wylie POEM FOR STRAWBERRY You can turn the pages while Mommy changes you.            Gailyn Saroyan      A Musical Poem ABCDEFG                  Davi Det Hompson a little thomas hardy      Aram Saroyan

Murder and no names for the excitement of law that the ax cuts my own genitals to butcher her. America sucked on its fuse. The days congealed. The heights of billions of years burned in information. I did not want prose tho the poem could do no more for the Laurel Canyon Road with Deanna…

The long black whip cracked at the wind. And the handle. . . If I held it in my right hand, my thumb would cross between her breasts and the rest of my fingers would embrace her back and come around to rest on the inside of her right thigh. But now, her arms are…

It was time to splinter doors. The stairs of water. Blood running from a lightbulb. A gun dreaming in a glove. How does a pregnant woman plead for her life? He shut the book. The light was disabling itself or He opened the book – To deal Upon the vengeance of the Lord. Literature, the…

           you the      perceiver then when things come            close                                    far                              i there’s                  no mover with                        action it’s                              all right not                        she      any old                                    dirt                        …

on Lake Titicaca Era of Giant Tapirs she stepped out of her craft Oreana her skin the deep sheen of gold with weird webbed feet & hands embraced the Boss Tapir *     *      * thus we began who have two breasts like her & intelligence & a womb like hers & a tool like the tapir’s…

Listen I am tired of being killed over and over your eyes whitewash my bones I feel my shadow fading on the wall. I think I look like a mouse small, quick, running under the door. Your wide smile hangs in trees prying apart the leaves; later you add paws, claws, long lusty fur that…

In the city at the terminal Pvt Gigure of the Air Force is having trouble choosing but leans toward a Payday candy bar. In the city at the terminal a painter whom I once met has nothing to say to me. In the city at the terminal Morris Mintz has managed to get his name…