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She drinks a chocolate martini. I fold myself up and slide into her pocket.
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In time, I will forgethow he said "smooshie" for "smoothie"and "eyebrowns" for "eyebrows,"how his upper lip dimpled when he laughedin that uproarious, wild toddler way.How he wheedled to be wrapped and rocked,after a bath, even at age five,his long calves uncovered by…
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I remember when I first came to California, I heard a mockingbird sitting in a tree, calling out in the names of other birds. It was down in L.A. I was staying at my brother's house in San Gabriel and driving in every day to the campus at UCLA to go to s
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[SOME PEOPLE ARE BETTER THAN OTHERS.]
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I stomped up the steps clearing my shoes of snow. I was wearing my Rooskie fur hat with the ear flaps, and I kept it on when I went inside.
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Morning's first blush, their world in repose. Sated, drained, spent; …
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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
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If you're a Boomer, your brain is teaming with decades-old Pop tunes that you just can't forget. The real reason you can never remember where you put your keys? Too many of your brain cells are clinging to every last lyric to “Fire and Rain,” “Free…
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I reach into my pocket for my keys and discover the cough drops Iput there a week ago have melted. Now my fingers are sticky. And I don’t have my keys.
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awoke in confusion, fear and hurt never seen before that day a year past
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Vegas is turning out to be my kind of town. Easy money, free booze, and everyone is too overstimulated to realize I’m broadcasting right into their noggins.
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I wake up on the edge of the mattress, teetering. The dog is looking at me funny.
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fetal position can make a man seem small. harmless. like the child your womb won't carry...
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The old man sat in the run-down shack, nursing his lobol-weed tea, and cursing the bitter cold wind outside.
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And I don't know how long it will be until she comes outside and figures it all out.
Figures me out.
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He began life as we all do, an almost indeterminate blob. Ultrasound sonar plotting his outline on screen. The echo chambers of his beating heart dispelling the ectoplasmic impression of mere ghostly existence. His rudimentary …
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I was quite alone in this small room with the tarp and the dying fire.
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The sound built up, louder and louder causing birds and insects to fly into the air. Then it stopped.
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as distant lights
all must shiver
before joining in
a Milky Way river
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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.
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Directions: Match the stanza to the Beat icon:
A. William S. Burroughs
B. Peter Orlovsky
C. Jack Kerouac
D. Carl Solomon
E. Allen Ginsberg
F. Neal Cassidy
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She stood there with her back to me and her dress around her ankles.
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We are/no more than heartbeats on repeat.
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-Love is a rushing
of blood
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For a few/
vivid weeks, deciduous shrubs and trees/
will seem to glow like flames and embers
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My wife tells me/your dog has vomited/
on the carpet AGAIN!
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He just had to tell somebody. Anybody.
So he called up his publisher, L., who agreed to meet him at Oliveira’s for a drink. It only took about ten minutes to walk there from his big duplex in the Elmwood, where he was still living with his wife among
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