Sitemap - 2011 - 34MAG

Gary was ruining my life.

Life is no fairy tale, perhaps we should be glad of that. Love is the worst. Especially for women.

This bottle of water is plenty enough, thank you very much.

They would be making chocolate decadence.

The balloons, where’d you get the balloons?

The more protection, the less security.

Maybe it’s raining inside his head.

Shouldn’t we at least get a dining table?

Count all our change. Do we have enough for beer?

You’re not going back, are you.

I sleep next to your dead body.

He screamed for hours into a cell phone as he paced around the trailer in the parking lot of every gas station from here to LA.

So this was paradise.

I figure if I’m going to be broke, I’m going to be broke in some place I like. So I came to Tacoma.

I cry for Daddy.

He whisper-sings the punch line. “Toot toot, peanut butter.”

Annie glanced behind her, looking for Ben.

I think about how their lives are so strangely their own, how we can never really meet and know a person, not even our brother.

There I am: Duchamp’s mustachioed Mona Lisa, The Importance of Being Earnest, $70 in wrinkled bills, two suitcases, a seven year old boy, and a theory of my own sensibility.

Hey, I get it, man. You’re the water.

For a poet, doing tough stuff is almost necessary for making something beautiful.

I have started misspelling words that I used to write as easily as my name. I do not realize that I misspell them until the spell checker underlines them in red.

It was 12.45am on a Saturday when the server lost his soul. He was pouring a glass of Paolo Bea Sagrantino di Montefalco 2003.

They call it the Point.

I am nothing more than the ragged-looking homeless individual who sits on the sidewalk of the busy street.

Some kind of hardcore warrior sister.

The large red sign with white letters, placed prominently just to the right, positioned almost as a challenge to this dump and its famous denizens and inmates.