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This Train Is Bound For Paoli: A Multiple Choice Essay

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Train 664 leaves Thirtieth Street Station bound for New York City at 10:55. Concurrently, Train 663 leaves the station, headed for Harrisburg. Both trains are, confusingly, called The Keystone.If Mark and I have tickets for Train 664 because we plan to…

Daylight

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not to free ourselves// from suffering// but become the window// through which it sees//

When I Was Young In the Suburbs

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When I was young in the suburbs, there was an empty lot across from our house. Bulldozers cleared the trees, shredded the bushes, and piled mounds of dirt three times as tall as I. But they never built a house.The dirt mounds, chain-link fences, and neon signs were…

A Drowning

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Her time was spent in its usual way, breakfast, pills, organizing and cleaning. It was just hours behind today; hence the late swim. She was proud she did it, that she went outside. She swam, moved herself in the pool, chilly as it was. The pump made a wa

Mnemonics

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I write to make visible my small/ assertions against impermanence.

Cousin (from The New Yorker)

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...to know something people around you don’t know can put you outside of them. And then you can’t get back in...

Happy Valentine's Day From Your Librarian

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Is every librarian a poet at heart? I don't know, but a group of librarians recently put their heads together and came up with these library-themed Valentine's Day poems: Roses are red Your book's overdue You've had it for months Which is…

3 Poems

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We have always been a trashy species./ We study ourselves by examining/ garbage-- a pile of mussel shells here,

MR. WOODCHUCK

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fat furry marmots who play hide and seek

Mine

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My father was dating already. Her name was Shelly. She had a man-like body, buck teeth and red hair, a big forehead. I don't know what bog she climbed out of. She wanted to fill in for my mother, but I locked her out of my room. I just wanted to be sad and hold…

Around Close

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You know moments like these. You know how your mother ruins them.

Phantom Energy

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She called it phantom energy. She said it was costing us money every month. A few cents here and there, sure, but it all added up.

Play Pen

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we're only playing with this language you and I

Molly was a F***ing Tourist

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The boys drank in one room. The girls in another. Always the same, no matter the letters. Greek Letters. Shabby sofa on the burnt-out lawn.

Mercury Unbound - 3

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I've been mostly positive since joining up with Sister Helen. My previous pessimism involved spiritual degeneration, moral decline and decay, weak and weary instincts. I clung to life, afraid to die. Then I read something by Nietzsche, I'm not sure where but, like a seed,…

Admit Nothing

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Traveling in half-lit fluorescence, she smiles up at me, pale and strained

A Thousand Words

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Photographs can create, both good and bad. They can create a way to make a living, but they can also create opportunities for black mail, divorce settlements and most of all they can create power.

Tiffany's Economy

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The world waited with bated breath as Tiffany stood in the grocery store aisle that housed the various kinds of fruit spreads for sandwiches and toast. She tapped her toe and nodded her head this way and that while she compared the qualities of two jars of…

Protect

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The fabric on the waiting room chairs is stained and matted, but has been cleaned over and over.

The City's Not For You

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You left your quiet life for a home in the city.

Cymbals Guy

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cymbals guy — another way of saying hey turdshitface haul your skinnyass to the front of the bus.

He Ages

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'love is when the body goes away.'

Bricks

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There are things we must not say.

Sweet Pigeon

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A small poem

The Arrival

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Everybody knew it would happen. It didn’t happen exactly when or how they thought it would, but nonetheless it happened. “I told you it would happen,” a bearded man told his wife.

Cats Do It Doggie Style

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Xao Ping reflexively dug her claws into the plush chenille of the sofa and let out a low yowl. She knew the old lady would be mad if she tore the fabric, but she couldn’t help it.

Fulfillment

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And she's dying like someone who's tried living and failed.

In the North Woods (or, The War of Art)

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For the residents of Oak Morrow, entropy is an art form. They break their own windows and crash their cars into their living rooms. Grannies and pets can usually scoot out of the way before they’re crushed under the juggernaut of creativity.

Why the World's Fireflies Are Being Counted

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We got Bob Dylan on the wall wriggling from the lack of music and light among the spheres A great doubt has been raised and can be seen from far, far away for they are even afraid now in heaven that things can’t be going right and to

Polaroids at the Old Place

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Can I still be in your pictures?