death wants more death, and its webs are full:
I remember my father's garage, how child-likeI would brush the corpses of fliesfrom the windows they thought were escape-their sticky, ugly, vibrant bodiesshouting like dumb crazy dogs against th...
I've come by, she says, to tell youthat this is it
I'm not kidding, it'sover
this is it
I sit on the couch watching her arrangeher long red hair before my pulls her hair up andpiles it on top of her head-she lets her eyes look atmy ...
I even hear the mountainsthe way they laughup and down their blue sidesand down in the waterthe fish cryand the water is their tears
I listen to the wateron nights I drink awayand the sadness becomes so greatI hear it in my clockit becomes kn...
the final curtain on one of the longest runningmusicals ever, some people claim to haveseen it over one hundred times
I saw it on the tv news, that final curtain:flowers, cheers, tears, a thunderousaccolade
I have not seen this particula...
some dogs who sleep At nightmust dream of bonesand I remember your bonesin fleshand bestin that dark green dressand those high-heeled brightblack shoes,you always cursed when you drank,your hair coming down youwanted to explode out of what was hol...
waiting for deathlike a catthat will jump on thebedI am so very sorry formy wifeshe will see thisstiffwhite bodyshake it once, thenmaybeagain"Hank
"Hank won''s not my death thatworries me, it's my wifeleft with thispile ofnothing
naked along the side of the house,8 a
m
, spreading sesame seed oilover my body,
Jesus, have I cometo this
there's a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get outbut I'm too tough for him,
I say, stay in there,
I'm not goingto let anybody seeyou
there's a bluebird in my heart thatwants to get outbut I pour whiskey on him and inhalecigarette ...
good weatheris likegood women-it doesn't always happenand when it doesit doesn'talways ismore stable:if he's badthere's more chancehe'll stay that way,or if he's goodhe might hangon,but a womanis changedbychildrenagedietconversationsexthe moonthe ...
The flies are angry bits of life; why are they so angry
it seems they want more,it seems almost as if theyare angrythat they are flies;it is not my fault;
I sit in the roomwith themand they taunt mewith their agony;it is as if they werel...
the best often die by their own handjust to get away,and those left behindcan never quite understandwhy anybodywould ever want toget awayfromthem
yes, they begin out in a willow,
I think the starch mountains begin out in the willow and keep right on going without regard for pumas and nectarines somehow these mountains are like an old woman with a bad memory and a shopping basket
w...