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The Celebrity

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I love reading about myself. There's nothing more gratifying than seeing my name in the paper, knowing so many people are interested in who I am and what I do.

The Dotards

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We played synthetic derivative punk. We used Donald Trump tweets as lyrics.

Male Pattern Invocation

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in the much more terrorizing display/ of male pattern stupidity// as seen so often on TV/ in the House and at Fox News.

A Safe Distance

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Poems, and Zebras

Campbell & Evans

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He laughed – pictures traveled across his mind of bodies and mouths and the sex and the liquor, he could taste the flesh and the alcohol right then, strong, immediate.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Lasagna

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When we talked about the lasagna, we were, I see now, talking about different things. I.e., I was talking about lasagna, and you were talking about almost everything but. You weren't talking about the dry, burnt noodles or…

Dinner, As Told On Twitter

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She sometimes ate her dinner standing up, in front of her living room window.

No Regrets

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The ability to "see the ball" is a gift.

Hemera Rises

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The woods. They say don’t wander too far into the woods, where those ghosts can’t hear you and the moonlight won’t trace you a path. In the black crowd of trees there’s something waiting. Don’t go to the where the siren is singing...

Black House

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I dreamt once a child’s drawing of a house all scribbly black crayon swayback roof crooked chimney. God, do you remember how cold it was that night?

Forgive Me, Leonard Cohen

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There’s a price / on everything

Archaeology

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I would like to go back (with spade, pick, soft bristles), and sift through time and layers, brush away the intervening years, and find: the tooth, knocked out by my then best friend, when we were seven, careening downhill in my father's wheelbarrow on Boscobel…

Happy Birthday Mr. Watterson, Wherever You Are!

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Bill Watterson isn't just the creator of the world's best comic strip. According to the book “Looking for Calvin and Hobbes,” a biography of the elusive and reclusive cartoonist, Watterson is also a world-class introvert. Watterson refuses to make…

some days are

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some days are minotaur shit on your tongue/ smokestacks dumping acid rain on your already thinning hair your eyelashes pinned in upside down, backward/you give wrong shaving directions to the mirror

Her 68th Easter

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There was only the sound of crickets.

A Shadow on the Summer Sun

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Shadows are so admirable in film noir less so on x-rays and mammograms

The Eric Dolphy Marching Band

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My wife storms into the kitchen with a pink mako shark slung over her shoulder, barking "Dinner!" towards me as I sit on the counter swishing my middle finger through a bowl of sand.

Moon Talk

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moonbeams unrecognized language steadies my course

Personal Hell - I'm Not Scared, Just Disappointed

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Satan is a wide-eyed Pollyanna mime who communicates with a ventriloquist dummy that corrects my grammar, speaks in internet acronyms, tells me that I’d be a lot prettier if I just smiled more and lost fifteen pounds, and nags me about how all my problems

Winsome Mshindi

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The cold and the ice’ve really stoked a fire in those old bones of his. He runs with the gait of a racer, front legs straight out—each extension producing a crack like Jack London spitting into the cold...

a chat between Li Bai and Du Fu

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graves left or graves lost, into silence death sinks:/it's leaving the living that leaves us such pain.

My Church

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My ChurchThe white dressThe bridesmaidsThe friends, the familySadnessMy church knewno music

A Paper that Changes Things

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The dowdy woman in fart nailed the vim.

The Sharps

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How could a leaf be an accident?

Horowitch and Twaddle

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"...does the nurse, doctor or veterinarian experience greater sexual satisfaction than say the housewife in DesMoines or the sixth grade English teacher in Passaic?"

New Town, New Beginning

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That's what friends told him.He looks at the unpacked boxes around the apartment, hoping he hadn't packed any of her stuff in his haste.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 18

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Detective-Sergeant Claude Mulvihill was seasick. He was in a New York City Harbor Police boat in the East River headed towards the George Washington Bridge. There was a good chop in the harbor, which became worse when the Police Boat reached the Battery.

Boys

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He came to a spot on the edge of the strawberry fields where he liked to sit with his brother and watch the turkey buzzards circle overhead

Independence Day

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Not long ago, Owen the Second showed her a skull. He kept it in a brown cardboard box in the top of the closet. "My first wife," he said, and sneered, his lip bunching up around a scar just under his nose.

Independent Assiduity, part one

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This is me pitching a recently completed screenplay to a film producer at lunch the other day: