poetry: results 337–360 of 735

We work in a winter of soon & make do

while we wait for your wife to bring fruit & deli sandwiches

to prove connections best, maintained.

treasure our mouths

not just for gold under our tongues

but for silly raptures they accidentally exclaim…

And what hope does an average girl have when the gossip's

already turned her into a cold-blooded pariah, a bitch deluxe?

A spurned lover here, a few premenstrual days there and I'm

gorgonizing men in their tracks like some monster from the lochs.

My soul lives in my body's house,

      And you have both the house and her—

But sometimes she is less your own

      Than a wild, gay adventurer…

The durian fruit stinks

            like you killed your grandmother

and stuffed her under

            the living room couch…

Stop to see your optometrist.

You owe it to yourself

and to your country to have

your eyes examined.

Members of the family, especially

children are more cooperative

about saving pieces of soap

if you paint a coffee can, cut a slot…

Heart, we will forget him,

   You and I, tonight!

You must forget the warmth he gave,

   I will forget the light.

I've got an arrow here;

      Loving the hand that sent it,

I the dart revere.

Oh plunge me deep in love—put out

My senses, leave me deaf and blind,

Swept by the tempest of your love…

What though these years of ours be fleeting?

What though the years of youth be flown?

I'll mock old Tempus with repeating,

"I love my love and her alone!"

If ever two were one, then surely we.

If ever man were lov'd by wife, then thee.

If ever wife was happy in a man,

Compare with me, ye women, if you can.

if the salt-cured ham glazed

with honey is no longer

my sweet sweat on your

tongue and your fingertips

forget journeys along my

forever hips

don't need much room. forty acres would have been too much. just need a corner of a corner to rest my eyes between shifts. will not be distracted by women or love or necessity of the loins.

I'd forgotten how the skull

shows through, towards the end;

how they were right,

those medieval artists…

Darling, please do not touch me. Every time you do I throw up and lose my fat belly.

Every time I watch a movie

about human robots I constantly have to say to myself

You are not a cyborg, and sometimes simply

saying this is enough to get me through

the day.

This the progression of prairie fire follows

the plot structure set to motion by an organism

long ago—first earth, then wind, and fire

followed by the resolution of rain we still

wait for as the dust picks up…

You died in spring.

I go in fall,

not to the grave but

past the hog farm…

Outside nightingale waited. Wasn't patience

so much as practical. Little feet

like dinosaurs and nightingale was remembering

her own sister: no tongue,

no hands,

just a spread testament.

I forgive you as I have forgiven many things,

lyrics for those dolorous blues we played, those women,

America's loneliest state.

You are

there, behind that full

moon, in another state

in another hour. If I were

to tell you that my need…

Curious are the ways

holiness is achieved (that freezing

and melting point, that instant

when your perfect attention changes

and unchanges you or the world) and unforeseen

the consequences.

The Brain—is wider than the Sky—

For—put them side by side—

The one the other will contain

With ease—and You—beside—