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When a Bastard Stares at the Sun

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The sun is going to slice your goddamn face open.

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…

Driving Old

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I drive old now

Prior...More

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He was drinking heavily again and complaining that there was nothing fresh worth writing about.

The Job

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Well, it was on a Monday and you know how bad Mondays are to begin with. I had been up real late the night before playin’ poker and drinkin’. I was thinking that after a couple of hours the hangover would wear off and I’d be okay, but instead I s

Jean-Michel Basquiat Invaded My Dreams

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"the rum tasted of hibiscus blossoms"

Behind the Writing - Music

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A powerful song is often a result of imaginative storytelling through a unique “voice” and pitch-perfect musicality.

Courtly Love, a tail

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They're bound to wonder what sort of offspring we'll hatch. We've done the tests, we are cross-fertile.

The Blonde Bombshell

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We lived across, the street, across North Govenor, from a pretty art student whose stripper name was Jan the Blonde Bombshell.

the snake charmer

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God forbid you should break one of the camps precious “rules,” which were more or less like the Ten F'ing Commandments around there.

Optimism

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I paused in case she said more. Then, “He’s very faint but he wants to talk.” She leaned forward, chin almost resting on the grey-haired woman in front of her. “Tell him to shout.”

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 10

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O’Toole signaled again with two fingers. The night was young. Suddenly I had to go home to my lovely Penny. All I knew was I didn’t want to end up drinking at a hole like this with my head down on the bar.

Polaroids at the Old Place

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Can I still be in your pictures?

The Good Boy

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I blinked the darkness out of my eyes and saw the man again; I could smell his breath. Just like dad’s. I must have fallen asleep. My eyes felt so heavy. I was cold. Why was I cold?

secrets

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Don’t worry about what went aloud. I said nothing.

Dad, August 10, 2010

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Satchmo sings a love song over the sound system. People read books, tap keyboards, drink coffee, eat cake. In Barnes & Noble—more a coffee shop these days than a bookstore—I am thinking about my dad and his stomach cancer.The terror he…

SEPARATION ANXIETY

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Julie and I had been dating for almost a year when she slipped her vagina under my door on her way to work.

DANCING ON AIR

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You were at a saloon on Water Street. Witnesses say. You were taken out of the place and put on a sloop against your will. Witnesses don’t say.

Greedy Pigs

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So I says,

Snow Angels (after Sandy Hook)

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The weatherman can't predict accumulation. He can only tell you it will be cold. Expect ice, wind, snow, expect delays. Your daughters play outside, dancing around the Evergreen, its branches bearing the weight of snow, its branches

So What

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This morning I heard her downstairs trying to get away silently. I knew she would write a short goodbye note. I knew it would tell me her reason for leaving —she had to be free of my indifference. I dressed, finished my coffee, backed out of the driveway and went to…

To Know but not Really

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So strange this feelingTo meet someone I've haven't really metTo know someone I don't actually knowTo desire to learn more but sure I never willTo feel connected not knowing what I'm connected toTo read words, thoughts, feel moved by them, but never hear a voice

Almanac

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I said, “Marcy, Source Almanac is a guide for the Apple.”

Mores

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I like my men like I like my wine: in a box.

The Lake

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The Lake I. When the weather was nice, the fisherman and his girl spread a blanket over the shore's rough sand and watched the cargo ships cleave their way to the…

Scarf

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Phil doesn’t know anything. He thinks his truck is possessed by his dead mother.

(after Hemingway)

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FOR SALE. One prom dress, never worn. Size 18.

Attila the Bun and the Lost Paradigm

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I had a meeting with the editor of a well-known magazine. She said, “I think your paradigm got stuck up your monomyth.” “Oh dear. Is that bad?” “Bad? You want to be a writer, don't you?” “Well, I did. I'm not so sure now.…

Google for giggles

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Why won’t my parakeet eat my diarrhea?

At the Number Party

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and dreamed itself infinite.