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A Paper that Changes Things

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The dowdy woman in fart nailed the vim.

Arcana Magi Zero - c.3

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Alysia tried to focus on what was important, but it was too much to bear. She was ready to dive down when a shot of wind blew past her, causing her and Megumi to lose control over their gliders.

As Many Will Fall

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tumbling for you from afar as close-up. They will rewrite your dancing form like a proper magical spell on all their maddest days, using the branches of cherished trees dipped into the trapped wells of certain hosts of …

Real Heart

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A heart which is alive despite everything in the world that wants to deaden it.

Party w/Your Parents' Siblings

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Her mother sighed, fingering the faux-pearls around her neck. Barbara's neck tensed, almost as though the hair on the back of it would stand up: Here comes a platitude . . .

Brave New World

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awoke in confusion, fear and hurt never seen before that day a year past

Why I Cannot be your Facebook Friend

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The TV projects from an insect arm. It has the face of my ex-husband, smiling and void. I like to set small fires and inhale them.

Tying Flies

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He plucks the feathers and winds thread to simulate an insect’s torso.

Hoop Dreams, Harvard Style

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“You have no idea what your lives will be like if you can get out of the ‘hood. You could be driving Volvos, eating Tuscan cuisine, getting MacArthur ‘genius’ grants!”

The First Day of Summer

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It is the first day of summer, a blue-green afternoon, and we sit beneath the English oak, Quercus robur. Everything has at least two names. It is the first day of summer, or the last day of something else.

One Day

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I was ashamed of my conscience.

Ilex Cahokia and A Common Piece

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remembering Cahokia, a place we rent near the water's edge, for we dare not enter

Sax Named Pegasus

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I was just sitting in the corner, stirring my stories with a straw that sucked characters out of bars.

Greenback Fly

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It doesn't take a genius to figure how he sank, in the drink, like Jeff Buckley. Like a stone.

Once upon a time.

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"Tell me a story."

The People We Like

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How hard it is to pretend to be someone else. Alone, together, in the silence... I thought about how you must really like me to act quite like that. I wanted to hold your hand and read the unsent love letters.

October

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For a few/ vivid weeks, deciduous shrubs and trees/ will seem to glow like flames and embers

Past Imperfect, Future Imperfect

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A proper study of human history should lead the student to an inescapable desire to commit suicide

Hard Times

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None of this is real, he says, and the path slopes down to a house that is possibly haunted. One always looks in such windows, one cannot not look at the predictable detritus of another's failure, a queer satisfaction, a fairy's dust. But no, not real, none of it. And…

Sri Radha Afternoons

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We were wild, medieval magpies, sweaty and sweet and selfish; and so much more than we were before I lit that first stick of spice,

The Paintings at Lascaux

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Essences of bull and bison,// stag and horse, illuminate/ the stony underground.

Fringe Element

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In order to be a catalyst for catharsis — which is just a fancy way of saying agent of change — you have to be willing to condition yourself into something partially inhuman. Only something on the very outskirts of humanity…

Whispers (set of 3 themed poems)

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Navigation and Perseverance

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“Gladys Miller!” the dog shouted. “Live a little. TiVo it.”

Smoke and Stars

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as distant lights all must shiver before joining in a Milky Way river

My Poetic Nemesis

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Except for the bathroom stalls—you know the one that goes “Here I sit all broken-hearted”—the only poetry in the house is composed by Hazel, recited to her fawning sycophants.

The Monolingual’s Regret

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Polylinguists lash me with tongues I cannot conjugate

Ring, Ring, Ring

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If this is trouble, please call someone else.

The Sluice

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Everybody knew Billy Miller. He had messy hair and crooked teeth that he hid behind a thin-lipped smile. He and his friend Jimmy Rodgers, who everyone called Cock on account of his red hair that stuck up like a comb, were inseparable. They liked to ste

Luz Maria

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Although badly educated, and although the Michoacána fought to deny it, she held the complex notion that borders are not abrupt lines, simple artifacts of geography and cartography.