Most read stories

Lamenting Lexiconical Loss

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Neglected long enough, uncalled for/ by the shrinking language of the day,// my words abandon me.

My Boyfriend Believed in Aliens

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My boyfriend unequivocally believed in the existence of aliens. He was the Mulder to my Scully, though when I said so, he had no idea what I was talking about. I never understood how someone so E.T. obsessed could have missed 'The X-Files'.He would look skyward, eyes…

Desire

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We crept to the edge of the cliff and stared down at Lake Travis. In this alcove, out of the churn of the speedboats and pleasure craft, the water shimmered, impossibly blue. “Didn’t you used to jump off here back when you were getting high?” Ryan said

Framed

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We can apprehend beauty only/ by framing it with the photographic/ paper’s edge or the novel’s margins/ and bookends.

Tangenital

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I don’t personally know any models—let alone any supermodels—at this point in my life but some years back my father, who was working for the Woolite Corporation, was in charge of hiring models for them.

Woman On A Bicycle

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And the ocean was black and green and blue—as your dress that clung to your body’s curve. Round as the bend of the water trailing the false line of the shore.

Death Is No Big Deal.

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The suite of dark rooms/ extends forever./ It’s no big deal.

Mortality

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The list of things to live for/ shortens with age. The list of regrets/ lengthens.

Now or Never

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One by one our friends are kicking the bucket. Let's get together. It's now or never, we figure.

Considering a Career

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Mostly, though, reiteration of the old/ in an idiosyncrasy that strives/ to become fresh and fails

March

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Crows etc.

CfK

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A sturdy and goatish original by know-nothing punks from the sticks. Who cares if we were puny and smelled like fresh milk? For a few years we played and rocked, even turned the Appalachian soundscape a little brown at the edges. At least at first. Mainly

Springtime

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Bert also said that somebody else at the meeting was complaining about his high blood pressure, and Bert repeated what Hank had said, that he was glad to have any blood pressure at all.

Consuela, Your Love Chaperone

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he took me hostage as I came out the door. Nelson took me hostage and we went back to his parents' house. They were gone crappie fishing so I had to spend the whole weekend alone with him. I didn't have anything lined up for Saturday night, so it wasn'

Old Haunts

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“Why do you write filth?” they howl

Road Trip

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I threw my hand / at the gearshift/ the car glided off.

My No. 1

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I remember meeting you many years later.

Sowers of Nothing (ELECTRIC DELIRIUM 1.2)

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We dig up conscience-tunnels, pluck the play-flower of present choice for fun, run aground, past this dimly lit, though not to be underestimated, stage, and open door upon empty door, to nothing, for the lights are a pulse flickering in the perceptual per

Lost Sister

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She looks exactly like my sister, though I do not have a sister.

Why Things Are Just OK with Me

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With such demeaning precarity, I can’t read/ anything more than a thousand words

Lewti & Loki

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I had no portent this would occur, / Ne'er did I see this happening, / Not days before, nor those coming;

Arcana Magi Zero - c.1

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The moon is now at the corner on pace for the horizon. On top of a tall business building in Downtown Newark stop a woman in a hood cloak.

Protection

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You're a good dog, she whispered to him, a good brave dog. Her face was tight with soap.

The Drone

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"He turns in his bed, and reaches for a body, like the blind to braille."

Norm Never Says

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He was supposed to be a garden gnome. Give pause to the squirrels, keep an eye on the impatiums. We found him at Wegman’s. He looked hopeful and observant.

Lonely Hearts

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He didn't hide it. He told her he was a mortician when he called. He had responded to her ad in the Lonely Hearts section of the newspaper.

True Lu

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Lu peeked at his cards again. They were still jacks, and they still looked mighty nice.

The Little Things (three versions)

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It's the little things that trip us up: a small hole in a level field, an innocuous root in a well-trod path, a disinclined sidewalk...

The Poetry of Wallace Stevens' Secretary

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What in the name of God’s green earth does this say? “Chifferobe if you can of Aztec in coffee can”?

MY WAR

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In May of 1982, my daughter and I planned a trip…