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CURTAINS

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She also castrated her cat. All by herself...with her Swiss Army Knife. And not with the blade either.

The Only Tricks We Know

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The day Eugene told me his secret he gave me a bouquet of lilies. Ice clung to the petals like fuzz. Sorry about the frost, he said. That was an accident.

The World Explained

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This is why the earth revolves around the sun: refrigerator magnets.

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:

Loose Ends

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He looked peaceful.

Your Tits Make My Feathers Fall Off

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He thought she should have come with an owner’s manual So he would know how to operate the equipment It was definitely more than he bargained for Or knew how to handle She was too hot

Barren

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It was the coward's way out, to commit suicide. And yet, one had to be brave to attempt it.

Road Kill

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We looked out into the darkness and then at our children. The dark of the forest was feeding them with ideas, filling their imaginations with things beautiful and things wicked.

Sugar

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At first we thought we could get by using honey so we all stormed the SuperMart and cleaned the shelves out of Suzie Bee Honey. First the jars and then the squeeze bottles, but it wasn't the same. Then Mary Sue yelled out “How about brown sugar?”…

Capt. Love's Last Command (poem)

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The old man is dead, body propped in its cart like the dead El Cid strapped on his horse by Jimena to save Valencia, and yet...

Mort

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Mort’s hand-mind suffered electrifying-absence-emptiness; no wife.

On a Count of the Stars

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The number is very large/ and perpetually changes// as old stars fade, explode,/ or collapse into something not stars

Towards the End of Memory

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This will be the century of infinite sadness,/ sadder even than the Twentieth/ with its expansive catalog of horrors.

walk off the animal

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I don’t know how some can do it. Can they just walk off the animal in the yard or something, and forget about love altogether? Some have that built-in coldness of the soul, I guess. I don’t get it. The blood does not seem to shake their hearts. Are th

Introduction and Apology Written Against the End of Time

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They articulate my failings as a human being./ They articulate my greater rage at human beings// here for such a short time and at the precipice already

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.4 - c.3

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Azure felt tired of all her problems remain unresolved, and she felt this was a good opportunity to get one out of the way.

Propped Up

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Christmas Muzak was piped through to every store in the shopping mall. Giant red velvet bows adorned reproduction Victorian gaslights. Yards of glittered cotton pretended to be snow. A Santa rang a brass bell.

Assiduity Seventeen

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In the darkness, as I awaken, an orange glowing 3:45 greets me . . .

mourning

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The moment I was told of your passing...

Darker

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The moon poured more/ light into the sky/ yet we kept on talking

Perfect

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a perfect afternoon

Lotus-eaters

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empty wine bottles, and a single abandoned boot

When Spectacle Replaces Ritual,

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The aisle, nave and/ transept twist themselves/ into an auditorium.

Hope's Amanuensis

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I was low on carburetor / oxygen and my fraud protection / had just expired.

Souvenir Des Choses du Passé

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Let's say maybe you're in a place your mind has never left, and let's say maybe it's Mississippi, and let's say maybe it's summer with kudzu throbbing green all around you, and let's say maybe she's a Sagittarius girl, standing in that driveway with her young breasts…

Beer Pong With the Nobel Prize Winners

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Alcohol and American writers have always had a connection–about 70 percent of American winners of the Nobel Prize for Literature could be considered heavy drinkers if not more.

One old and one new

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served as it is/ among these friends. The frayed filaments/ tickle my chin and irritate my nostrils,

Ankles

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At five o’clock Jake joins the crowd at the back door, walks through the slush to the parking lot with Betty Boop.

Begonia {part ten}

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You may be wondering, as is only natural, about the designated husband of our dear Princess.

Feeling fences

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... he could feel the pointed picket spears.