In honor of Bertrand Russell, whom I am ignoring to watch The Italian Job:

Two Lines
      thirty-two two-line poems




I fell at the party.
I'm still at the party.





Coasting downhill
requires austerity.





Standing and walking
are two of my favorites.





We'll team up
and dance.





Temporary artist.
Permanent issues.





The police have come
in their little toy.





Choose me,
little shoe.





A grown man
has tiny aggressions.





Marty come back,
the hole is bigger.





Serious pedestrians
counting their coins.





The picture of baby
smells like a baby.





I knew Spanish
before it was cool.





Bring me the bloody head
of your last boyfriend.





The lake needs friends
who can live in the lake.





An empty car
full of cheerleaders.





Now we have more time
and fewer friends.





Believe me.
I'm healthy.





Walk downstairs singing
and stay there.





In relative calm
we find chores.





Precise and diminutive,
at least it's your stroller.





Go home
to your cocker spaniel.





Storming the fortress
the children start singing.





Once while spying on my neighbor
I solved for x.





Needless to say,
I haven't been calling.





When the tiger is in the mountain
the mountain will sleep.





2002. Still more trees than people,
and more water than trees.





The june bugs return
to your bonnet in quiet.





Beyond the distracted building
a very calm building.





Frantic prams.
Romantic oblivion.





He heard a crash
and blamed himself.





Nice hat.
Thanks.





The blue umbrella
walks alone.



Joshua Beckman & Matthew Rohrer
Nice Hat. Thanks.
Verse Press