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The Virgin of Last Resort

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In a little dirt church at the end of the world stands the ikon of an unrecognized saint.

Smart Bar

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Everything is painted black that isn’t glass, velvet, neon, or chrome. The club is cold, and the DJ who broke-up with me while I forgot I was stoned is spinning his favorites to an empty floor. Endings have a rhythm. I heard this one coming. I can hear it

Walking To Gibraltar, Chapter 2: In Which Spousal Abuse May Occur

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The separation—the plan—had been a long time coming. After years of fighting and therapy and apologizing and, finally, silence, their marriage was about to die of exhaustion.

Young fool

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my lawn, get off of it

Octopus

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My ride, my good friend Morning was due any minute, but of course, he/she was always late. My costume was a dog. I was stuck to another dog, in the act of passion. A stuffed one. A basset hound. I said my name was Lightning.

The Guardian of Starlight

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now the days are empty and time has lost its head

The Alarm

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Harris Tobiasharristob@gmail.comThe Alarm A terrible clanging in the middle of the night roused me from my bed. I put on some clothes and hurried into the street there to mingle with my bleary eyed neighbors. At first we thought it was a fire but there was…

The Cry of Freedom

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"Only the gods in heaven can do such things," he shouted back, his voice hoarse and parched from no water for two days. "Wouldn't your God have saved you by now if he had the power?"

Bird Noises

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Let's buy this robin's egg blue furniture. Okay. Let's buy this album full of wren songs. Uh, okay.

Invisible Grime

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Most everything is white because white means clean and hospitals are supposed to be clean. They wouldn’t let me leave.

Where I work you cannot see the sun.

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Where I work people use words like leverage. They do not appear to denote anything.

Bookends of a Life: II

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The clacking ventilator reminds me of ice cubes rattling in your highball...

Mount Baldy

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The most beautiful possible thing is to deprive all places of their meanings.

At the Fair

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You're on the Ferris wheel, and the wind is blowing just a little bit, and the sky is invisible behind a wash of white clouds, and your little yellow box tips when you look down, down to the fairway swinging. In the boxes below grandmothers are shrieking …

Polaroids at the Old Place

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Can I still be in your pictures?

Pitspits

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a perpetrated fraud

SHADOW

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I am a shadow. Cooler than liquid. I don't need a container to take shape.

Darkroom Tech

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Entering that darkroom is like slipping through the barrel of a rifle.

Nothing At All

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The ice in my drink provides ample cooling. The brew strength of my tea is just such that it combines in a pleasing fashion with the melting ice. My mind is clear and my belly absent hunger. I am completely sated from any physical desire at this very mome

Snatch 8 (the zombie flash sequence--it never dies)

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Oh, gracious mercy, oh...

Saturday Housekeeping

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but I pretend again I've kept the prairie/ out, have battled back the smoke and dirt

Conjugal Love

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Either they got married in the church dressed in their mothers’ bridal gowns, gaudy and ancient dresses with off-white lace faded from years of hanging in the attic, or they snuck down to city hall...

Museum of Everything

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It is the monad.

Questions Dog First Pooch's Kennel Papers

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The White House released only a short-form pedigree certificate, which “breeders” claim bears signs of alteration. “The ‘K’ in the middle of ‘AKC’ is longer than the other letters, like an El Greco on an acid trip.”

Why No One Writes Epics Anymore

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No one writes epics anymore. Why? Perhaps it's because we no longer share mythologies. Once there was a shepherd, and now there is a Google bus loaded with pricks. Yes, you say, but they are good at math. Each and every one of them. And this is true. I envy them…

The Gate Before

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You were always goingto connect the dots. I was always goingto overfill a bucketwith poems. You wouldeventually drive off wavingyour hand like astar on a spring. I'dshoulder up another notebookfor the walk. Myhand would rather holda pencil. Yours wouldaccept a kiss…

So Many Questions?

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“Are you my neighbor in 3D?” Was she?

Why We Need To Keep Writing

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We need to keep writing because the great ones aren’t always that great We need to keep writing to insure that the future even has a future We need to keep writing because the wind won’t know how or when to listen if we don’t

Irish Drunk

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Your honour stinks of failed fishing trips to Galway.

Nest

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He spends his Sunday morning spraying WD-40 through the straw-like stream attachment at the expansive paper nest of beige and ivory striped wasps.