Searching Huffington Post for articles
on "Compassionate ways to ask
your spouse for a divorce"did not prove
fruitful.
Searching Huffington Post for articles
on "Compassionate ways to ask
your spouse for a divorce"did not prove
fruitful.
I can’t do stupid today.
These aren’t my pants (or jam hands).
I left behind a glass slipper
in a bottomless pit—
But in 1970, she started looking straight at you:
Those sneaky eyes had to go said mothers
who finally accepted her giant breasts (sans nipples).
Hope and results are different…one doesn’t create the other
[Looking at himself in a mirror]
There’s a reliable disappointment
I see the pattern now
deep in the blue blocks
that keep me in puzzles.
I would have to make a career, stomping around
like a mastodon to find a portal, some rough crack
in the old world for us to spark through. I would have
to head for an impossible destination,
What is a human besides meat?
Does electricity really create what we call
life & what does that exactly make you?
I enjoy a good dose of Leslie, Ron, Donna, April—the whole gang—on my best days. But on my worst, this show becomes an unbingeable nightmare.
Because Leslie Knope makes me feel like shit.
There’s a heart in a bag (face it) throw it over the
edge that thing pumping like fury like fire inside
you never belonged to him
When Conan O’Brien asked if his parents had purposely named him after the legendary comedian, George conceded that his parents didn’t actually have much of a sense of humor. The crack went viral on You Tube.
Is there anything to call that? Something that’s more
than you should but not so much you know it’s wrong?
I understand. I
tell her that
sometimes, my
arms bend back.
Which is not to say
the way to get the best performance out of someone is to have them fear
for their life
I’ve just had the happiest thought
Nieve says, the ice of her hair melting rapidly
at these speeds—A girl falling is the same as flying
downward.
Now, what option did you have when
the whole world saw you break, said you broke
what you had meant to fix? Wasn’t it always your
job, caretaker? You are ignored, now screaming.
Naked and obnoxious, with a stereo on multi-disc shuffle,
we dove so laughter would drop like pollen from our bodies,
Jason – always – leading the way.
I believe in the conservation
of birdwings, in tiny packages of light
& their insistence on shining
in the resurrection of dying things.
I don't remember where Mrs. Harding, our club sponsor/art teacher, was during all this. Probably in the art department's ventilation room. But I guess she needed to be high or whatever to deal with a bunch of fourteen to eighteen year olds singing in broken Japanese and wearing Naruto headbands.
It was weird. I was weird, as any of my classmates would have attested. Everything was weird, if you thought about it long and deeply enough.