how I justified my neighbors death
He looked as if he was searching for a dropped contact lens Red in the face sure, but it’s fucking summer in Florida Red and sweating all I stuck my face back into my phone Reading the same thing I read a minute before I will see only this screen I will see only this screen He does look a little distressed He’s 6’ 6” with a wrench-bang voice and a fuck-off attitude ...
It’s been strange weather in the Bermuda Triangle The hurricanes coming straight at us and then turning sharply to the right or left What is she shielding us from Does she protect us at all The warm south where Cthulu came to rest In breathing waters Dead Spanish at his breast So lie there sleeping Rolling the fog The embers of empires speaking, forgetting all they saw
Book Porn: the luck of the world →
henrycharlesbukowski: throughout the years I have gotten letters from men who say that reading my books has helped them get through, go on. this is high praise indeed and I know what they mean: my nerve to go on was helped by reading Fante, Dostoevsky, Lawrence, Celine, Hamsun and others the word
Always the seams
“I want to find the place between melodrama and talking about my balls. I’m not sure what is wrong with me.” The camera pulls away from the lone lamp atop the desk silhouette of the author Beard carefully combed to give the almost-Marx profile Cock most definitely large and finely haired balls like mice around the Maypole He radiates and I want to be at his lips Why does...
A distant reply to Sarah Gay
Through months of nauseous confusion and misunderstood grasping late night drinks and early morning red eye Through headphones loud enough to drown out reason loud enough to rouse in the dozing hypnotic days kneaded and rolled into one stale loaf ** Know all that may be, during quiet marijuana bedroom desk coffee biting the inside of my cheek again and again I just want to be honest but...
We sat in our small office. Three desks end to end like a bar that only served Folgers and mediocrity. Through the window the storm beat ragged on the boulevard and across to the Health Department parking lot. “Infants cannot eat solid food,” I told the guy from Support. “Who says they can’t eat solid food?” My coworker turned to him and said, “They can’t....
collaborations that should have been
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: He cannot choose but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. Then a band of demons joined in and it sounded something like this. -Samuel Taylor Coleridge and Charlie Daniels
one evening on the patio
My friend described it as thinking through quicksand. The anise, the ice, the apparatus. It seemed more like thinking without the body. As if my eyes were placed just a foot forward and above my head in a tiny, insubstantial pool. Viewing the conversation with yourself in the periphery. To go any further felt unnatural. Not that I owe nature reverence. I don’t choose to walk into the ocean...
The difficulty of spontaneous sobriety
I felt a flash of generative heat move across my face. We were leaning against each other trying to remember where we came from. The commonality I sought was found, to my surprise, on the precipice of a dark evening. This dark evening. With the tempest roar of possibility slavering, fang and breath, inches from our faces. It was so hard to think. We focused. Hope wouldn’t break our...