next to the last daythey say the world is dyingarguing on howbut all agree it is timeall the growth will pass away
he walks in the roommesmerized for performancedigital cameraall the lights out for dramahe writhers spirit possessed
murder, miserya world-withered innocencewhat's left to enjoyhope to achieve vanityor life on other planets
he thinks he has ithe thinks he has got it downhe hold the treat soand tells the dog to stay putbut it's the dog that's trained him
he uses a hatwhen it isn't raining outas table lamp shadebut when it is raining outexpect the hat on his head
she stands shoulders backhands relaxed to either sideblack gown with accentstoothsome red lips split apartthe proud stance of a winner
animated batscupcakes with cream cheese frostingMaria Callaswhen you work twelve hours shiftsthese things become important
sitting on four legsankles crossed, fingers foldedthat's how I see yougentle curve of arm and cupbrand name red, bellicose mouth
the list of books iswhat I need something simplefar too many wordsleather hardbound broadside chapall I need is one
dialectric shockthe van allen belts deformedthe starfish prime testssolar cells, circuits, sensorsdamaged by radiation
he's proud of his workthe pattern is cut from steela saw grinds with sparkand at the end of the dayhe sweeps up the curled shavings
they call her beautyunconventional lookerundefinablea show stopping set of legscans that clatter for miles
where are the fightersnot the ones with loaded gunsI mean the free rangesarcastics armed with humorand cutting intelligence
it seems so simplefill in the applicationthe producer callsand then you are on the showreality tv hell
she giggles at himpulling his sock off carelessmussing up his hairhe begins to cry angryuntil mother intervenes
someday they will saythings were less complicatedthey will wonder whyit took us so long to growwhy we didn't try harder
reincarnatedwouldn't you take steps to notduplicate the wayyou used to live or would youtap into your deep wisdom
can't seem to catch upalways leaving things behindminutiae forgotand nothing to gain from itevery second is wasted
soaking in the tubyou think about the futurelife with your partnerthe piles of dirty laundrythe dreams you had to give up
you think you're so smartkid, let me tell ya somethingthe world is in debtand from the time you are bornyou'll owe everyone something
when the fridge shuts offand you realize silenceisn't that silentyou might think of turning offmankind's electrical hum
Rhododendrons bloomchildren toss balls into hoopspale skin is exposedpolished classic cars cruise bycovet your neighbors' laundry
she sent me a cardan e-card about lovingand trusting othersshe signed it with ironyas though it were a big joke
I am sorry butyou must leave the building nowwe will be killingall known spontaneity happiness, love and freedom
you don't feel like ityou want to stay in bed, sleepbut you saddle upso to speak, and wrestle itdominate your moodiness
this meditationhunched and poised as if in threathurts my old bodyand when I disengage itmy tendons rip and all aches
a loveless familyfeigning concern all aroundangry, self-absorbedexercise routines, T.V.,interrupt and meet The Strop
walk through the wood fenceget mugged by angry pigeonsdelinquent pigeonswith mohawks and monobrowand knuckles cracked to your jaw
some say that raccoonsfought a great battle for landin Nineteen Sixtyor was the year Sixty-Fourthey lost, but they also won
striking pictures ofEdwardians in colorat the beach waitingstanding together in groupslooking always so refined
Tanka Girl is a site dedicated to the Tanka Poetry form operated by Julie Mae Madsen: Blogger profile
