On Myself, On Thought, On Edward Weston's Photo
by Rebecca ThurberDo you know how she became like this?— Breaking into fragments and mixing with the sand. She was monumental. She lay across the Rocky Mountains, but now she is eroding. Look at her— At the shadows made by the angles of her jagged bones. You may see her in segments, Love her in...
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Anodyne
by David WrightOver the years porch planks broke from old age, square Mason’s nails were sticking out bent and crooked, and Gallow-grass annuals grew tall through the cracks of the floorboards. It was lucky the house hadn’t burned down years and years ago. A nice Lord knows, if any where some awkward...
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Stick Figures
by Scott EatonPlaying with nighttime clay, crafting simulations . . . Part of me wants to see the answer book, the part that spooks its own shadow; but the child in me wants to play, to cut newspaper clippings from holiday trash and dance around the pyres of conquered fears. Smile . . . I like yr smile . . ....
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Angelfire
by Caribou Slim"don't worry, it's all Good" In the asphalt valleys where the billboards war and the desert draws kisses down through the floor the glitterwhores call Golden and lush from their bonfire ballrooms in their amphetamine rush
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Stumptown Love Song
by Caribou Slim
So - thus the deal be - title cliche irregardless of reality. The names have been mauled to protect the ignorant. Was it '03? Living in the heart of this mutant art center, tiny little dark room. The building had been a warehouse, and then the Oregonian ran its presses there. It was a long, weird... Read more...
Minnesota Virgin
by David WrightKeesha knows that she has done something wrong, just not what exactly. It is not always easy to do the right thing, especially when rules are unclear. Keesha is old enough to know that running away will only lead to more scoldings from her mother and a hard, stern look from father. Dramatic...
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monday homework 4.23.07
by thug rigbyWrite a blues poem for something you've lost or forgotten. Blues Poem I've lost nothing. There were the years where I looked out of the window and watched the construction tall cranes lifting boxes and I beams far below whole city stretching out and away, fading out into the fog buildings scraping...
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Magellan's Dark
by Caribou SlimWhen I first met Magellan, I thought he was dead. His eyes were stretched out to the stars with a vacant gaze; hands lay open, palms upwards, as if in supplication. His long body was spread out across the...
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Hikooki
by thug rigbyWe file through the lobby past guards past cameras into the revolving door, through and out into the sun
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Sister Cities, or...
by Arminius VonHow to Build a Transportable Thermonuclear Device to Raise a Particular Location of Your Enemy's Homeland from Zero to One Hundred Million Kelvins in Less Than Two Hundred Milliseconds Using Nothing More Than Lithuim Deuteride, Angstrom-Callibrated Machine Tooling, Steel...
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Howl.com
by Arminius VonI was pulling up some 10 base T cable for one of our servers talking to Ginsberg like I do now since he won't leave me alone How'd we meet? I'd been sitting in the office having coffee, beluga, glad I hadn't settled for eighty grand and he schwinns in, tells me I should have shot the moon tugs...
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Submission
by Caribou SlimI have wandered the corridors of my death Marveled at the sculptures cast in memory Golden and ebony Painted my blood along the walls calmly Carved my name across the floor with my fingernails Heard my last breath echoing through the empty halls paused Smiled, listening to its quiet melody...
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Paradise
by Caribou SlimDon't worry, you're not gonna fall. Pete, grab my legs. Got me? Okay, I'm gonna dangle my jacket over the edge of the cliff. Man, that's not gonna hold him. Don't worry, dude, it's wool - seriously tough. Okay, we're gonna pull you up. Ready? One Two Three FUCK! Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Dude! What...
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38 Geary
by Caribou SlimGood morning to ya O' snakebottom girls with your breath peppermint smooth hair bucking on this bus rodeo your eyebrows plucked prim and arching to make sure I know exactly how much you're not looking at me
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Summer Morning
by thug rigbyWaking up to hot Hot air Pulling on my slacks Covered with cat hair Snapping on the flimsy Timex A weed-wacker hums its insect tune Emus, peacocks, various fowl softly call from fences past fences I step out onto the hot porchboards To smoke my morning smoke breathe in my ash. In mid-stalk, a cat...
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Madia Lane
by thug rigbySipping coffee on the porch in the sun. The bitter taste matches the feel of the sun on my skin. Acidic. Dry. I hear the children in the rose garden before I see them And then I see their three little heads Bobbing as they run Single file through the thorns
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