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I'm not sure if this is breaking the rules of Fictionaut, but here's a trailer of a poetry tour of Europe I did earlier this year. We hope to break it down into webisodes soon enough to highlight the brilliant readings, brilliant local poets and such that you can find not…
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I am far from home, wherever that is.
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If he had not just decapitated a chicken, he was a man I could have loved.
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Smoking is like hooking up with an ex-girlfriend: you know she's bad for you and that it won't work out, but it feels so familiar and comfortable and so easy to slide back into.
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As a boy I fished under the Tappan Zee bridge which spans the Hudson River above New York City.
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The robot may be grabbing onto something so big I'm mistaking it for the countryside, or the sunset. I could just be one cog in an infinite chain of leg-attachment, stretching from the cosmos to the sub-atomic.
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At night, I wake up, and Daddy's in the bathroom with a hanger in his mouth....
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She’s witnessed her mother’s terror on the day of the hurricane, and she demanded for the first time in her life that her mother do something her mother did not want to do.
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He lost his patience and began ranting and raving, angry that he had to come home every night and feel like he was being smothered by a pillow. “I can’t make it stop,” she said. “I can’t make myself stop feeling this way.”
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The man next to me on the Shinkansen from Tokyo to Kyoto makes me think of the smokers I’ve kissed.
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Astrid hadn't always hated him.
They met at the Beta house in the fall of his junior year. Typical Friday night. Stoned, drinking beer. He and Red Chapman sitting in their room playing guitars. The girls in their blues jeans. The guys from the house hi
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Mom wraps a bulky-knit scarf around my face and over my mouth. She tightens it into a big knot in back of my collar.
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A few people bristled and looked at Jim, but since he was avoiding their gaze, they had no choice but to return their attention to their own table and pretend to pay attention to the conversation they previously had been pretending to pay attention to.
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They stand together in the doorway looking at the crib.
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From a window, the young Pole Krzysztof Penderecki saw resistance fighters hanged by Nazis...
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I took Annie to the zoo, and the tigers got out. The little tigers, that is. Cubs. Two of them. The zoo employees scurried about, peeking into nooks and crannies.
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“We all come out from Gogol's 'Overcoat'," said Dostoevsky. Well, sometimes, I think otherwise.
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Uncounted hens and piglets/
die at my demand. The killing floor//
runs red for me. I am/
monstrous to creatures small and great,
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I scratch a red welt onto the inside of my white knee. The knee itches like crazy. Pain too, down to my bones. The Congo calls.
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The real problem with being face blind isn't that you can't recognize faces. It's that people expect you to be able to.
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William Shakespeare (a surname that meant "wanker" back in the day, by the way)
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BABY MOUSE She and the baby squeeze into the neon blue star-studded rocket ship in front of K-Mart, a tight fit because the baby's still inside her and the ship is made for under ten year olds and the steering wheel dents her stomach and the baby backs up and…
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It was always your body that told so much --
lips working some secret out
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“He looks funny again,” the twins would say. “Cow looks funny, Mummy.”
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“We’re starting to get into weather control,” Mark said.
“Can you really do that?” Rachel asked, trying to sound supportive and not skeptical.
“There are people out on the west coast in Seattle, who’ve been experimenting with it,” Mark said.
“Bec
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When you have lived with pain so long, you grow old and the old man inside of you takes over. That’s just the way it is.
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It was a phone call we never expected. You were so full of life and joy and the sound of your laugh was pierced in our minds. Two strokes. That's what they said. No explanation, no back story. We worried we would lose you. Immediately, all of our memories with you started…
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