2000 4 3
|
…Professor Wumbat begins.
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2000 1 0
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I've been invited to speak at Emerson College in Boston—it will be the summer of 2012, and I'll be speaking on running an online literary magazine; in this case, my own, Anderbo.com.
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2000 2 0
|
“We’re prisoners,” Sean reminded the guard. “Prisoners of your military.”
“You have never been treated as such.” Captain Hughes looked around the bar. “This festival is a celebration of you, of all of you. We pride ourselves on ou
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2000 30 12
|
What scares her about libraries are unshelved books, the ones you thumb through while you are waiting for the elevator, because you realize that there are too many books in the world and you are holding that particular book only because it is lost.
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2000 2 1
|
"Look at this," she says while thumbing through the guide book, "look at what we can do on Jooga Booga island. Says here, 'Parasailing over the sapphire blue sea, one soars hundred of feet above water-skiers, boaters, and snorkelers, and the picture is b
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2000 4 2
|
I had the hair of a metal god, cracking it against the air whenever the stereo belched fists.
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1999 0 0
|
A night bird lands on the windowsill with a struggling copper moth in its beak. The bird cocks its head at Rasmus, then swallows the clockwork insect in a gulp before flying away.
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1999 11 5
|
She wears a green and pink bikini and walks real slow, poking her chest out so people will notice her.
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1999 1 1
|
What? No, no, where did my world go? I was in the middle of… something. What's going on? What's stroking my face?
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1999 18 3
|
she peeled back
the white wrapper
from around her
ice cream sandwich
slowly, methodically
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1999 19 13
|
perjured like a fickle impulse
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1999 10 2
|
I never pulled it off, never rode an atom through a super collider with a nose full of cocaine and a drink in my hand. Never was a bullet, zooming through the city, skin pressed to bone, nerves on fire. Never was an atom bomb, ever-exploding in slow motion, ripping off…
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1999 0 0
|
I laid in the road, broken and alone, until I had no choice but to pull myself together and get out.
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1999 3 3
|
I can tread water like this for months maybe longer
|
1998 13 4
|
. . . she didn’t bow her head.
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1998 3 2
|
“Why is it that you give a woman a bit of power and she turns into a man” said a new intern from the copying room “You can hear her balls rubbing on the carpet as she walks”
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1998 8 7
|
I'd been working for two years as a barista in a Starbuck's in a giant, two-story Borders in an upscale mall on Rt. 355, a main artery between Washington D.C., and Frederick, Maryland. I'd finished my M.F.A in 2000 and was trying to build up steam for more grad…
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1998 5 1
|
She takes her hamburgers medium rare and the pickles remind her of the taste of last night's penis before she stuffed the stranger's apologies in a jar.
|
1998 5 4
|
Max is the color of burnt caramelized sugar
the sweet crust that decorates our bright enameled pots.
|
1998 2 0
|
Her mother told her once: "Don't be no whore, Fe-fe."
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1997 0 0
|
“Where are you going?” asked the young man. Teary-eyed and beaten, he gently put his hands on the shoulders of Snow-child, her back turned from him. “Home,” Snow-child said. “I'm going back to Norway.” …
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1997 0 0
|
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1997 0 0
|
The ice in Mum’s drink clinked as she rolled the glass across her forehead. “Ith that a gay thing or ith that a vampire thing? ’Coth I’m finding thith all a bit confuthing.”
|
1997 17 7
|
The transformation in their domineering, sour mother revised her children’s memories of their childhoods.
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1997 4 4
|
I’ve had it to here you see.
|
1997 5 1
|
One year, she got a kite.
|
1997 4 2
|
The stern tone of the chairwoman made him miss his mother, the snap of her accusations, the sting of her belt on the backs of his legs.
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1997 19 17
|
A flash in seven chapters.
|
1997 8 4
|
He beats the girl, stabs her 22 times, rapes her, then uses his fingertips to push her orbital sockets into the back of her head before killing her. At trial, he laughs about whether or not there…
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1997 7 6
|
This no man's island I'm perched high above isn't always so beautiful to the casual beholder of newly printed maps. Oh don't go and get your clouds all wrong. Puffed or thin, everything I say I believe in is a real feeling, until the music dies…
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