Most discussed stories

O Fortuna

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This poem begins my poetry collection. It is about the pain and suffering I experienced when I had an attack of two pulmonary embolisms, one in the right lung, one in the left. This nearly killed me. I lived with the pain in my lungs whenever I took a bre

A pallor, a darkening flush

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My whiskey drunk, I twist around to catch the white blur of the great horned owl as it swoops from telephone pole to fence post, ears alert, ready to undermine the idea of calm and quiet I’d let settle over me as I drained my glass.

Brian Epstein's Letter to His Mother

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All that loves green produces green.

June 29

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the only thing that impresses me now is the state of my inebriation

The Toy Store

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Figures are a strip tease.

Poof

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Yesterday's protest...

At the Crossroads Bar

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An eye patch waits aslant his passenger seat.

use

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the sensual tactility of tall buildings

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There's a nice line in M. Tafuri's essay “Architecture and Cities in the United States 1870-1910” concerning the relationship between land values and building costs:“… whereas the simple parceling-up of surface lots is the product of an elementary…

when your muse has left the building

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maybe it’s a good thing your muse has taken temporary leave because at least she’s not pecking away at you like an itch you can’t scratch

desire

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burning for You, caught in between, yearning to remain completely wrapped around Your finger, feeling panoramic, and this alive.

At Waffle House

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Staring at my $10 All Star Breakfast with extra bacon

The Blue Bird

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The blue bird tapped at my window and pecked my crumbs. I talked to him as to a small person about the things of life, of flowers, of trees and the sky. Even at times pretending he was erudite, I questioned him about evolution and extinction. He looked at me as if he…

The Wind

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The wind comes up relentless in the afternoon

A Regime With No King

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Blank space / governs the minds of small children

thing

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MUNDO MUERTE

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Meagan rides the subway with perfect lips and deep thoughts, looking moody out the smudged window like an actress in a Sofia Coppola film.

Ron Vara speaks out at last.

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He’s an empty sock

Me and Sid and Tom and John Yount

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True story

The Big LARP

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The ambient sound wheezes on.

Bowling With Diane Keaton

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Friday night, 80s halcyon,a memory of October bowling.The suburban lanes loudwith kids and kinetic releaseof balls slamming on maple.I have no footwork, no senseof release, fingers sweatyin the grips, resin droppingwith a hollow boomfollowed by derision from more adept…

At her Bedside

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He turned off the light. His wife was breathing slowly. At her bedside, he spoke of her friends the roses, of the pretty carnation brooch he had pinned to her silk scarf, of the alluring hat which fitted her so well. Small souvenirs, simple and vivid, the heavy night…

Let it Rage Until

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Let it rage. I shall not suppress you. Let your rage speak to you of the sorrow it hides, until your sadness swallows you whole.

The Case of the Phantom Paperclip

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I was sitting on the steps in the entryway to our apartment building taking off my running shoes when I spotted a paperclip on the floor. I assumed it had fallen from the mail that my wife had just taken from our mailbox. Once my shoes were removed, I went down to pick…

to You

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A glance—I dissolved completely.

Barred caller

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overheard

Punchlines of a cosmic joke

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Creating a world in which no one believes . . . killing a world in which no one could believe.

Off The Cuff

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Sometimes words are carved in stone, but you won't find these in this poem

Black and White

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Chris and I have an understanding. We've been playing cops and robbers all morning, running around and stirring up shit.

Started by a Sudden Change

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Erma's last task, as it happened...