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By Derangement of All Our Senses

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We will collapse in a storm of images

needs

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addict for validation and cat tongues

Full Frame

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A month before the real flowers came, amputated trees for 31 miles were festooned with pink blossoms. The petals were tufts of Fiberglass insulation shorn from houses incapable of withstanding 260-mph winds -- more than twice the punch Katrina delivered t

to a gregarious stranger

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Three lines.

Blackout

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The blackout lasted longer than anyone thought. From my fifth story window, the whole city seemed to shut down. I heard noises above me. How could it be?

Moon Backstory

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Today clouds were dancing on the moon Moon had a fit but drew in a breath And let out a sigh

Prophetstown

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The elders of the town will tell you that as soon the prophet mill arrived everything went to Hell. Before the process was streamlined, prophets used to be grown organically in the community. They popped up only where the ground was tilled and a prayer was planted. They…

Thing To Do In Deptford When You're Dead.

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Velvet answered the door in a red leather dress that was made with just about enough material to make a wallet, and looking like a long limbed drink of water calling out to a thirsty man.

Unconscious Primate Pandemic Panic

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I wrap my left foot

City Streak

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the little crummy salon that churned out little fat women with pinked curly hair

Blackish by Reason of the Ice

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"Sara, do you taketh it with your eyes?"

On the Roof

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Marie was on the roof. The deck, with its cool concrete pavers and faded cedar Adirondack chairs, was one of the reasons she and Harold had bought their condo in this building. The only ugly part of the roof was the chain-link fence along its edge; soon after they moved…

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…

The Ageing Beaver

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This was just noise now – pure, raw noise, grabbed from their throats and flung high by some sharp claws of violence buried in their breasts. Even from his third floor apartment, they sounded like they were right outside his window now. It was if they h

You Can Keep the Keys: Song

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Here’s the keys to the house Here’s the keys to the car I’m going out and I don’t care I’m going out to buy a cigar Don’t bother locking up after I leave I’m not coming back anymore I’m going to drink whiskey out of a jar Go out and buy

Three in a Major Key

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One can watch the grass green/ in response. One can watch the world green/ in response.

Gone

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Erased. Like chalk across my body, a fine powder of forgetfulness, with a few swipes --- all those names and faces, gone. The letters burned.

Same Old Song and Dance

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You want to get laid talking socks

Pillow

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“I was just dreaming about you,” he said, sleepy-voiced. “What's for breakfast?”

Presage

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I am calling to tell you what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Snatch 7 (come 11)

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...the scream and the face...

For My F-Fellow St-Stutterers

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Funny, funny stuff. She'll be here all week--be sure and tip your speech therapist!

Five Million Yen: Chapter 58

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Anatoly Gringovitch was listening to the dress rehearsal of Hausenstockmann’s Constellations at Auditorium Rainier III in Monte Carlo.

The Eleventh Brother, After the Swan

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I turned a maiden to a witch / and back again

Ladybird

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On the other pillow is a ladybird which escaped from a dream. It reminds me of when I was a tiny red polka dot. And then bigger, and other colours. And then… I stare at the ceiling, searching its soul for little things. The ladybird touches my arm, whispers…

Mother O'Grady's Last

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Christmas night was closing in at the Cantrips alehouse in Aberdeen, a firm favourite for riggers and other men and women who lived life close to the horizon. Sometimes, on a Saturday night, things might get a bit rowdy but Mother O'Grady would stand firm and bring out…

A Scalar Boson a Day

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. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.

Ode To My Hangover

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you utter fucker.

shakey

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You held my hand when I hit the ground and told me the shakes would start soon.

The Gowanus. Expressway, not canal

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in their hunt for desires not felt on either side of the crescent / called Gowanus