Name (Chris Jones Poem)
His name has been ghosted over the fence, leaving an alias, burn, prison clothes. I'm half the man, he says, ...
His name has been ghosted over the fence, leaving an alias, burn, prison clothes. I'm half the man, he says, ...
Although you have given me a stomach upset, Weak knees, a lurching heart, a fuzzy brain, A high-pitched laugh, a ...
He'll be pleased if I phone to ask him how he is. It will make me look considerate and he ...
His body toned, thin like a runner short, tank top good running shoes coming toward me through the village passing ...
Oh it was too easy, in my rush after the traffic to the bank, the banter of the customers marking ...
Pray now, offers are unlimited so ended the sermon, as it had begun, sharing thoughts on the offering of God ...
As I woke this morning, I remembered I remembered that day, the exact moment when I saw the towers, innocence ...
Off the grid, no watch, no phone leaving the world behind entering this holy ground a cloistered space, community fellowship ...
My phone ringing, too early for work a quick call, bringing a smile to my face My wife, calling to ...
I heard an echo of it, as I spoke to a prospective client it was his voice his telephone voice ...
My heart leapt At the sound of your voice Your number on my phone's screen This morning, today Your voice ...
Was it 12(g) that governed My studies tonight Use all my tools now, Spread before me, Or lose them later ...
At the end there were straws in her glove compartment, I'd split them open to taste the familiar bitter residue, ...
Everything has its limit, including sorrow. A windowpane stalls a stare. Nor does a grill abandon a leaf. One may ...
It's too nice a day to read a novel set in England. We're within inches of the perfect distance from ...
It had been four days of no weather as if nature had conceded its genius to the indoors. They'd closed ...
the phone rang at 1:30 a.m. and it was a man from Denver: "Chinaski, you got a following in Denver..." ...
ah, christ, what a CREW: more poetry, always more P O E T R Y . if it doesn't come, ...
groggy voice hangover head phone rongs work call money writing muddled thoughts adrenaline rush hands clutch power book pauses comerapid ...
We who travel between worlds lose our muscle and bone. I was wheeling a barrow of earth when agony bayoneted ...
My bag was missing at the airport "Just one bag?" "Yes, but it meant a lot to me" I had ...
The fear of perjuring herself turned into a tacit Admission of her guilt. Yet she had the skill And the ...
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