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Michael Angelo Feb 2018
Where is
The escape
From the shackle
That is the body?
There's a whole universe
We'll never experience
Because we're trapped in time
And physics
And scientific laws.
I want to create
Matter
From thin air.
I want to feel
Star explosions.
I want to inhale quasars.
I am not god,
But I am not man either.
A Career, money, taxes, security;
These are the least of my worries.
Each year spent in incarceration,
The soul dies....
How am I supposed to see value in this world
If I have cosmic eyes?
Iraira Cedillo Mar 2014
81–100 of 11462 Poems
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From “The Sonnagrams”
BY K. SILEM MOHAMMAD
on thoth’s ****
From Sonnet 75 (“So are you to my thoughts as food to life”)


A groovy day, a fish fillet, an elf hair, . . .
Homer
BY TROY JOLLIMORE
Schliemann is outside, digging. He’s not
not calling a ***** a *****.
The stadium where the Greeks once played . . .
Ocean Park #17, 1968: Homage to Diebenkorn
BY LARRY LEVIS
What I remember is a carhop on Pico hurrying
Toward a blue Chevy,
. . .
Per Fumum
BY JAMAAL MAY
My mother became an ornithologist
when the grackle tumbled through barbecue smoke
and fell at her feet. Soon she learned . . .
The Archaeologists
BY JULIA SHIPLEY
found pins
by the millions
while meticulously . . .
The Break
BY FRANZ WRIGHT
Then he stopped
dead on the sidewalk
astounded . . .
The Companions of Odysseus in Hades
BY A. E. STALLINGS
Since we still had a little
Of the rusk left, what fools
To eat, against the rules, . . .
There Are Birds Here
BY JAMAAL MAY
There are birds here,
so many birds here
is what I was trying to say . . .
Twelve Thirty One Nineteen Ninety Nine
BY LARRY LEVIS
First Architect of the jungle & Author of pastel slums,
Patron Saint of rust,
You have become too famous to be read. . . .
Whethering
BY A. E. STALLINGS
The rain is haunted;
I had forgotten.
My children are two hours abed . . .
Make a Law So That the Spine Remembers Wings
BY LARRY LEVIS
So that the truant boy may go steady with the State,
So that in his spine a memory of wings
Will make his shoulders tense & bend . . .
A Midsummer Night’s Stroll
BY PHILIP NIKOLAYEV
I.

I am a man.  I’ve lived alone.  I’ve been  in  love.  I’ve  played  with . . .
[The water was rising...]
BY LYN HEJINIAN
The water was rising, I got up on the bed
Still wearing the Hawaiian shirt he had on yesterday
He used his thoughts to draw a rudimentary circle on the wall . . .
[A straight rain is rare...]
BY LYN HEJINIAN
A straight rain is rare and doors have suspicions
and I hold that names begin histories
and that the last century was a cruel one. I am pretending . . .
[But isn’t midnight intermittent]
BY LYN HEJINIAN
But isn’t midnight intermittent
Or was that just a whispered nine
A snap of blown light low against the flank of a cow . . .
Third Poem for the Catastrophe
BY JOYELLE MCSWEENEY
O
melting rainbow that embrace this roof
O . . .
Dear Fi Jae 2 (Ms. Merongrongrong)
BY JOYELLE MCSWEENEY
Now I know what it is to bite the tongue inside

the mink stole: I do not want . . .
Self Portrait
BY CYNTHIA CRUZ
I did not want my body
Spackled in the world’s
Black beads and broke . . .
Kingdom of Dirt
BY CYNTHIA CRUZ
Soon the ambassadors from the Netherworld
Will begin
. . .
King Prion
BY JOYELLE MCSWEENEY
—Hoooooooo
Lay in an array of pixels
Fat, simulated proteins . . .
«3456»
urushiol Apr 2015
I can feel you undulating
Unraveling neath my kitten claws
And I want more

How fast would a car have to be going -
how many pounds per square inch till we collide and
My spine shatters like a pane of glass glimmering scattered along stretches of asphalt on a scorching summer afternoon?
Your shaking hands fumble to retrive yourself - tiny fractals of a crystallized moment and you -
I peer into each one to behold my teeth as in a dream -
Teeth falling from lips overflowing with apologetic acid
and they all reflect an unnamed series of secondary and tertiary emotions blasting through your subconscious like a prion folding intself into insanity
Still you grind my face into the pavement, desperation pushing you to find one that is not - is not - blinding -
Hand in hand we run on the beach, kicking sand into each other's eyes.
Yusuf May 10
A prion.
A parasite.
A writhing mass.

It is woven into one,
not by needle,
nor machine,
but by absence.

It is kind.
It destroys the mind.
It seeks a way.
Yet hated it remains.

Silently within,
pulsating with darkness,
twisting with curiosity,
it craves mercy.

A decay and a rot,
one not of flesh and bone.
This is one of isolation,
this is being alone.

— The End —