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Ode To My Hangover

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you utter fucker.

Winter '69

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One minute Rudy was sitting up close to me, asking me how could Geppetto make a little boy out of a piece of wood, and the next, Steve was pounding up the stairs, yelling, "Carla, get blankets, warm clothes; we're leaving, we won't be back."

Pillow

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

needs

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addict for validation and cat tongues

At the Juvenile Bubonic Plague Telethon

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We’re not like a lot of your fly-by-night disease-based charities. Every pence we raise goes directly to St. Bartholomew’s, where 90% of it ends up in the pockets of doctors so they can buy expensive horses.

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

My Latest Failure

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Jason, the obnoxious host, thrusts his microphone against my nose.

The Eleventh Brother, After the Swan

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I turned a maiden to a witch / and back again

Blackish by Reason of the Ice

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

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.

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…

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…

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.

Some Assembly but No Singularity Required

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The phone rings. The oven beeps./ The locomotive whistles and howls.

Chicken Noodle

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Damn this airplane

Letter to a Lost Friend

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I keep attempting to start a correspondence with people / but they end up not being interested in me, / either that or I scare them away / because I usually begin with: / “Well, my favorite philosopher is Hegel..."

Arcana Magi Zero + Pure - c.8

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Megumi paused for a moment, understanding Mrs. Akamatsu’s concern, but looking back at the Society, she shook her head in rejection.

The Book

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The following is a true story, or rather it is a true experience from the story of my life. Some say that just because something happens doesn’t really make it “true”.

Kilz

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He flipped through a book of poems Ani’d given me. Nothing fell out so he tore it in two. I said his mama must notta read to this one and one of the older cops laughed and he hit me.

Should Have Gotten Delivery Instead

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My mind raced at the endless possibilities one could die while driving to get a pizza.

When to Say Pussy

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I have hired a relationship consultant. He helps me through conversations with my wife.

Bonfire

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On our back porch, the tiki torches are lit and so am I.

Mr. Kunitz, Mr. Lowell, Mrs. Craig

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Although I think we can easily work it out because we are not here in the Yale graduate school, and diction is the theme of the story. Diction is a choice in language.

Unkilled Jeff

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"Oh — what is this 'work' thing the philosophers speak of" sort of thing.

to a gregarious stranger

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Three lines.

Four Quarters for a Dollar Moon

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There's a large tunnel that runs under my house. I can only estimate but it's not deep below the ground and that's what worries me.

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…