Pulp Poem of the Week

some women can sing
and
some can paint
and
some can dance
and
some can be faithful

          Don Tracy
          Last Year’s Snow
          1937

Pulp Poem of the Week

Married people
always kill
one another.
Sometimes
it takes them
fifty years.

          Lawrence Block
          A Stab in the Dark
          1981

Pulp Poem of the Week

When a man
has his head
cut off,
he’s never
bothered again
with sinus trouble.

          Don Tracy
          Last Year’s Snow
          1937

Pulp Poem of the Week

I was a machine, and
my arm was the arm of the machine, and
the gun was a part of the machine. And
when the machine’s finger contracted
the machine’s gun exploded, and
that was what the machine was for.

          Donald E. Westlake
          The Mercenaries
          1960