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Heirloom Pendant of an Ash-Tracked Snow

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If I do not hear you leaving by the door... The nearness here of this yet questions when I know you will not come so back again, Nowise the same as you were there before. My own reflection, centred at its core On knowing each …

Freelance Your Way to Poverty

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Buyers of freelance writing have a well-deserved reputation for responding slowly, thereby increasing your pleasure in much the same way that the Pointer Sisters longed for a slow hand.

The Sound of Human Lives

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The room smelled of an old rank basement. Boys and girls of all ages crowded the stage. The room was dark with only a few lights that hung from above keeping the crowd dark and silhouetting Chris on drums.

Lorelei

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It was all things considered a particularly odd sight, which Annalise did not know how to handle.

Hands Like White Porcelain

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Jesus is for sale. But he’s heavy.

Enough, Trump

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Enough, Trump. We've had it my dear, with your pink ties, your hairs, your swagger, your towers, your money, tempers, walls, bombs, smarts, snarls, pouts and doubts, bigotty bile, and once again, style. We just…

During the Interim

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Nothing changes; the moon arcs its mindful lemon eye. . .

Did You Get Two

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“106 more miles,” she said.

Milkmen

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I can barely pick out the numbers on the houses

left handed

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under your skin the moon is alive

Catch & Release: Dog Person Depression

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Instead, I get things like, “Why can’t you find a nice man with cancer or a bum leg?”

I Was a Cat Once

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This is a 50-word story.

O Where Did Our Funny Go?

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What a nation! First we lost our money Now we’ve lost our funny

we're all in there somewhere

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We ask was that me? The one on the corner with his hat tipped to the jaunty side? I've wore hats, I've stood on corners. Am I not jaunty?

Cigs,

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They teach that emotional pain is physical pain, culture pain is science pain, but they cannot test for the absence of these synaptic conclusions. I will say, if you can test me and find something missing then you can supplement me for the missing thing.

Rolls

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Nothing is ever hoarded in our house, everything is eaten.

The Silver T to the West Side Highway

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They watched the seven o'clock news.

In the Stream of Space Expanding, Eddies

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Microscopic purposes emerged// with their combinations and permutations

All Fall Down

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He just up and dropped dead one day, Charles said. Pretty tough on Karen, I opined. Charles looked the other way.

Same Old Song and Dance

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You want to get laid talking socks

Amends '82: Part Two

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Bobby took one out and looked at the date. "July 1965. Does that mean anything to you, Ma? Carla, T.J.?" Bobby handed the paper to my mother. "Why don't you spread it out on the counter to see if you can find something that he might have wanted…

The Face in the Oatmeal

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It was uncomfortable to realize people had agendas. That there could be invisible realities.

After He Stays

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When the sex that is new and promising in its awkward moments is over, you turn to him. You expect that he’s figuring out a way to leave; the parts of you that know wait for him to stand up and put his clothes back on, quicker and with more eagerness than

Three Micros

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I asked the hospice nurse about maggots.

Remembering Ginsberg

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Remembering Ginsberg who howled through just about everybody's idea of the real weirdo poet

Muse

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This liberated you/ to grind me hard/ on the dance floor

The Human Resource

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I am a human resource, batteries not included

Peggy Guggenheim Visits an Operation

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To pay the bill.

Gluttony

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I become the accumulation/ of appetites

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 40

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—Mazel tov, schmazel tov!