Click here to lend your support to: Web Hosting for Ink Node and make a donation at www.pledgie.com !

Ink_node_logo_small

Member since April 11, 2009 | 1,396 Readings |

Andy Stallings

Recent Work

(3)

87 views

The day gets / million-pointed / and intermittently / loud. Spangles / I detect in my / trouser crease / that don't shake / free, and a beach ...

(2)

119 views

The condition was fuck / the condition I'm playing / basketball. I am not / / fooled: the moon is pliant / and frets entire cycles / away in...

(2)

100 views

Everything equal, / a cluster of grapes / composting. / Lust was / utter under / summer's / vile writhing, / plugged in, / pulsing in / the...

(5)

248 views

/ Philosophy: constantly / a waver. If cheap or empty, / loved. My sky / / yellow, headlights / running the curb like small / animals, wet...

(3)

247 views

However else the syntax / spread, there were / in that grove dove-eyed / lemons and everyone ate. / / I was sound / as a protein swimming /...

(4)

122 views

Life before me strangely, / I banged my suitcase / (blue American Tourister, / antique) against my / knee, whistling. / So many trains / to...

(9)

303 views

/ My hiding-place vibrates / like dinner's in it. Around / a neighbor's brisket / some deck chairs assemble, / and the young pines / lining the...

(5)

170 views

Behind Brandon Ray's house were woods / we occupied, afternoons. A circuit of trails / we'd scratched through underbrush / spread downhill to a...

Subscribed by Andy Stallings

from the Summer Gloss

(0)

21 views

this fatigue no bike-wreck. sick / or surge-strewn / summer / hove against those shores. dry tips / of nerve, of grass / rustling by...

BECAUSE YOU CAN HAVE THIS IDEA ABOUT BEING...

(8)

251 views

It is not an answer I am mapping. A definite / and timely expression of acceptance. / The burn bags are missing and what can this / mean? Error...

(1)

35 views

My god - my wastes - / / gone to grimace / / that ought to have gone / / to seed and come / / some harvest - / / / When the...

from Back Room Poems

Jordan Stempleman

(5)

299 views

Before the cannon was on the small side, / I knew just how comfortable / an explosion could sound. / / Magic begs us / not to call this...

Comments (0)

Would you like to leave a comment on this profile? Join Ink Node for a free account, or sign in if you are already a member.

© Ink Node, 2010 | Contact | About