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Conversations

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That won’t kill me, will it? I asked. Maybe, the doctor said.

The Way Home

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Her back turned, she wanders off searching for the way home wringing her hands, trying to think, but thoughts evade her.

Corrections & Clarifications

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It was Fredrick Miller, not his murdered son Matthew, who was executed Monday night at Henshaw Prison. (the system won't take anything under 200 characters, so this part is just to take up space. please ignore)

Kanha's Dream

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"Look at the grime on those curtains. Not fit for an Emperor. Pull them down. Put up fresh new ones. Not a spot." "Oh! Look at this throne. All uneven legs. The gems are not shining. The gold looks dull. Fix it, fix it, fix it!"

Within You and Without You

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The cloudless sky/ amplifies the incompletion,/ clarifies the imperfections/ of the night’s normalcy-

Tell Me Where the Cows Are

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Pholcidae...Daddy Long-Legs

Cornelius van Linjpleel's Contributions to the Study of Etruscan Tombs

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Cornelius van Linjpleel discovered and excavated for himself a lone Etruscan tomb not far from Populonia in 1898.

I Don’t Think Her Last Name Was Tucker

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I ran into Tanya at “Pearl's” — maybe it was still called “Big Balls” — over in the Stockyards (Ft. Worth) in '72 and right up front we both admitted to loving honky-tonks and “done me wrong” songs which is why we were there…

February 16, 2006

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When we arriveand are met by strange friendsstrange like the fog on the redreed mudflatsthat span the low tide around Incheon -When we arrivecarrying so much we will not needlike the bus they hire to take us through the darksix people to fill so much more space - When…

Something, He Wrote

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Mayakovsky wrote...

Wall talks to wall

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Wall talks to wall. One has a clock, the other a window, the third a cupboard with bandages etcetera. The fourth a door that opens and closes a thousand times a day.Chair is across from chair. Occasionally the one looking for care picks the wrong one to sit in, and there is…

Saved

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I woke up pissed off—like that feeling you get when you take a long nap in the afternoon. Except instead of being on a couch or a bed, I was trapped in a mashed-up Honda on I-75.

Safe

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She left knives and hot pots with handles akimbo. Like a guardian angel, he turned them in. Like an ungrateful Eve, she turned them back out.

We Loved We Laughed We Cried

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My wife broke the news to me. She enjoyed it, too, I'm certain of that. It was a juicy piece of gossip.

White Room Trials

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November 24th-- Subject began to chew the flesh of his forearms. Researchers considered interfering but decided against it because subject was only bleeding slightly.

Wedding

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The service was a disaster. The Protestants bobbed up and down. They didn't know when to stand, when to sit. I

Shut Up and Dance or "Greensleeves", In Its Way, Was Once a Pop Song

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The catchy tune and cloying lyrics/ nonetheless etch their patterns

Stitch

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He refuses to answer his phone, preferring the safe medium of email or his answering machine. He only eats pre-cooked, pre-packaged food, only drinks bottled waters, sodas and juices. He has cable, but only watches late-night infomercials and shopping cha

Dog Years

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Already my back aches

A Coin, Two Coins

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It hangs unspoken in the sadness he pushes through his harmonica, while his hands work the old, beat-up guitar that tries to be a Gibson for his fingertips.

Insidious

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Thirty years later – and all the years in between – Alan Walton would remember how insidious it was, the anger that started that night with Quinton Harris, fifteen years old and the undisputed leader of the troop, and spread like a virus to the other boys

Peggy Guggenheim Visits an Operation

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To pay the bill.

Black Mariah

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The war they wage fills everything with holes.

The Widow Teasdale and the Ineffable Warmth of Personal Services

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Her cash. It smelled like seven-dollar-a-quart gardenia perfume and cave aged cheese—like hope overgrown with mildew.

Tongue / Giddy

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A delicate thrill buzzed my face.

"Beautiful Boy! I am doomed"

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Beautiful boy! I am doomed / to have attended your presence; / time consumes us, but you / have changed so little...

Morphine

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Until the ivy hides me in

Four Brief Poems

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The eyes, luminous and large- each an infinite bright blue ocean Wind ruffles feathers My ego and vanity also/ encourage me not to wear a mask. An aberration/ that general circumstances/ will remedy, and soon.

The Lost Place

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. . . laughter and madness.

No Alternative

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