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Spiral

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When collapse is a wave that curls the floor under itself I give myself to it

Ripping Good Poetry Lures Boys Who Curse With Verse

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Pringy practices an aesthetic variant of the “muscular Christianity” that is a tradition at Groton; a program of Sunday poetry classes for boys who violate the school’s ban on swearing.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 25

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It was 6 a.m. when the phone next to the bed awakened Francesco.

Hoss Men (divided)

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Agents I have little idea. Woiwode partly supported his family in the 60s by publishing in The NYer (his friends were De Niro and Barthelme) so perhaps there was little trouble in his finding one. E.W. met his at a bar. He publishes in Paris and Texas.

New Moon

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circa the early 90s, Buzz Aldrin and my father had been invited to a dinner at someone's house on Bainbridge Island and gotten lost.

Assiduity Twenty Four

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The grand piano, . . .

One Sick, Two Sick, Red Sick, Blue Sick

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I found a diseased fish / wedged between some boulders near the pier

An Orange

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I offer you an orangeYou say you'd prefer an appleI offer you an orangeYou say, noI want an appleYou say you had a bad experienceWith eating an orangeHmm, I sayYes, but what does it matter?You say you are not eating the orangeUnder no circumstances will you everEat an…

Butterflies and Fresh Paint

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For PearlSo radiantly a threat to themare you, so radiantly a threatyou present, my dear, but between usthere is still that unspoken pact; justone more song, please. So radiantlyyou fill their cups with the beauty ofleaves and grapes. So radiantly yoursmall reassuring smile…

Acknowledgements

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I sit in a café and watch the near palms of summer swaying against the far ridge of hills and young girls walking along in their sleeveless summer dresses. Their shoulders speaking their long history of sex and future children,

Borgo Was 29 on His Birthday

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Borgo said 1979/So Borga remembered 1979/for him, just in case,/for what if:/ a driver license/or an act of god/or a marriage license/or even a lease/for an apartment/you never know, she said/ so he said, okay/you remember,/so she did.

The Pitch

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This is what I am saying now.

The Strange Edge: Have I Stumbled Upon a New Idear? (Blog)

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Slipstream features strange events in a typical world whereas New Weird features typical events in a strange world.

Hoss Men (continued)

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"Fax the Beaver" was its last, secret title. The beaver is a dirty trick, and it belongs on the index card.

Glorious Zinzins

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I do not know what zinzins is, what a zinzins is, who zinzins is. I do not want to know

Carrying you

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I woke up to the humming of an empty space in the shape of a sweatshirt,

Assiduity Sixteen

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I'm fascinated by Don's evolution . . .

One Day the Caveman Played Guitar

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Others climbed trees for a hopeful sighting.

Three Lost Cantos From Dante's Inferno

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We came to the furthest reach of hell- A place that email users know well. The woman or man whose unmitigated gall Causes him or her to hit "Reply all".

The Actual Poets

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And here’s a picture of you at the end of the line to the great toilet of fiction, waiting to relieve yourself, quick before the poetry gets to you. Or worse, the actual poets.

from Abel, to a reproachful correspondent

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when you betrayed the vain ambition of my death,/I did not complain.

poem in ten syllables concerning ontological equivalence at the end of the modern era

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technophilia? . . .

Cabana

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Les Petites collines De Ma Cousine

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Les petites collines de ma cousine Vous savez, ma mère a eu peur du fait que je ne résiste plus. Elle avait mille fois raison : Mes quatre sœurs ont toutes rendu l'âme avant que…

In the wee small hours

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If you're in an airport in the predawn hours, you are by definition a failure. You failed to make your flight; the airline gave you motel money but you're hoarding it

Sake

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I had the smallest taste. Liquid heat, gifted from lips. One long moment spent lost in her warmth. Fleeting. I should have drunk more. Would she have relented to one more sip? One final taste? “Be careful,” she…

The Opposite of Fear

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The rocks were pillows around her shorn head, the crimson stream running from her ears the only sign she had not chosen to lay down on them. Behind us, the rockface stood stoic; below us, the water lapped our feet.She held my hand in hers, giving me succor as I…

The Secret

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It was always your body that told so much -- lips working some secret out

The Underwear Thing

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Our banter has shifted, like wading from the shallow to the deep end. He taps his foot. “Your underwear reminded me of my grandma’s underwear.”

things to know about the people parked along the road that runs through Humboldt Park: part 1

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It was as if every wrong foisted upon his ancestors stirred up a war in him and he was charged with intending the canon at the living.