She says, You can’t unring a bell. But I’m a red Cadillac with a black mustache, and she’s a famous blue raincoat, an angel of the morning quoting the Sermon on the Mount. Blessed is the poet of wild horses and broken bicycles, she prays.
I always hated the city, its right angles and flat surfaces. I couldn’t wait to move away. I read The Secret Garden and Anne of Green Gables and eventually Thoreau and Muir and I loved the storybook pictures of the tiny rural colleges I applied to...
Put on your headphones.
Turn on the television.
Bury your nose in a book.
We all do it. We turn our
back on what’s important.
you can’t just keep
walking around with a
fever of 104° and
expect all the pieces
to fit
they scrape what is left
with fingers stained with
blood and lint, another
excuse preached through
a sermon of semantics,
Maybe this was some sort of purgatory escape room. Guys like Monty and John unsettled him. He’d worked hard for what he’d gained. It always bothered him to see men struggle with the bottle or the needle.
I am an intensely rational person My average walk Sometimes nationality comes in the form of deception Absorbed in logical problems purely mental Just figuring so fear comes around grabbing you back over do you hear no sound
Did I believe I was a good man? We all believe that we are good, to some extent. As Pope, I did what needed to be done. I disappointed posterity and wouldn’t have it any other way.
Remember Vince’s saucy smile
as he tonged them from sizzling grease?
Each plated on its own square
of paper towel? Remember the pics he sent?
He was known to worship
women and at the local temple
where Pullman and Rowling are forbidden
for suggesting magic can be yours
and salvation isn’t from the gods
cows walk on the serpentine ramp on the way down to the slaughterhouse. and shauna says he was not meant to feel anything anyway and
shauna says she still sees the yo-yo man sometimes
