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Strength & Luck

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Strength & Luck By Nonnie Augustine There was no food in Ireland for young Patrick Kennedy who'd known nothing of blooming. So he crossed the wintry sea in a bucking, groaning boat to Liverpool. Once the damn ship docked in…

Sunny Side

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I was so used to the silence of late summer afternoons, when I could roll my hoop through the empty, sunlit piazzas without meeting another shadow, that at first I mistook the footsteps for the beat of a metronome spilling through an open window.

The Darwin Awards

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"People are stupid. They've always been stupid. But these days...." His voice trailed off. "Dumb and dumber, huh?" the Boss asked. Peter nodded.

Ink Play

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Lying on a high seat in the south study, this is what I see:

Homunculus

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Tiny was my daughter. Or what was left of her. A mucous-y chunk of what was once in my womb and then wasn’t.

Ben Clarone: Prologue Part 1

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The gaunt broken man walked with short quick steps on the uneven path.

Tides

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Tides

Endless

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My grief is made up of Demons fighting to Claw their way first Out of my eyes

How (not) to Cheat

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...I’m honest enough to know that fucking around has never been accidental or unplanned. Every time I did it, even in the rock bottom throes of esteem, sobriety, and life, yes, even on the brink of suicide, I knew exactly what I was doing...

The Essence Of Story

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We all tell them/even when our mothers warned us only the Devil/tells stories

I Wish This Was Fiction

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The convalescent home's common areas are surprisingly well-appointed, given the neighborhood, which makes his actual living quarters that much more dismaying. Poorly lit, dusty, stifling, the room reeks of socks worn for weeks on end. My nostrils burn, and my eyes…

A Letter From Uncle Bernie

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...Truth is, it’s because of fabulously wealthy men and women like myself who long ago sucked all the cream out of the bottle, and now we’re coming back for whatever milk remains.

Folk Music Returns to Roots, But Some Try to Keep Them Buried

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“Sandy likes the way Bob spanks, when he’s done she gives him thanks."

on the shore on the shore

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I await, here at Sandymount Strand / There's a stony bed and moistened sand / Couples dance away into futurity / With their dogs upon the shore

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

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My first love was a woman of principle. Never deny your man was her motto.

This love.

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- Never in pain and distance - Frown on these moments, With bitterness and vain

Wavering Faith

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Grady Quail wondered why God didn't just have another son

A Day At The Beach

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Rothko and Stella loved the beach. To Jalapeno it was just one big litter box and for her it held no great appeal. She sprawled sunbathing on the dashboard lifting a lid occasionally to watch Lauren riding a wave. The dogs delirious with freedom romped and chased tight…

Taikutsuna, Abburido, Boring

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A Beatles haircut and loose Khaki painters overalls rendered the child sexless. He or she walked over to Hugh’s side and standing tiptoe peered into the casket. She, for Hugh had determined it was a girl, stroked the silk lining.

Sacre Something

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My first abroad journey completed. A picturesque way to end it all, really. I’m into that, I think to myself: making things play like movies or dramas or as beautifully as I can make them.

The Arrow

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"Give it to me I said, you dip! Fork it over!"

Hammered then hungover

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When she got back to Claire's, she was hammered and she had no idea what time it was, what day, or, frankly, what planet. It was the first time she'd been that drunk in years. The last time she could remember getting even close to that wasted was at a Christmas party right…

Recipe for the Broken

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This poem first appeared in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, founded by Walt Whitman in 1838.

Harbinger

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Smoke from the oil lamp traced the wall. It gave Nana something to read.

Lovelandtown Tavern

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James Hubert III sat at the bar. It was late. His wife and kids were long in bed and he knew he should be, too. But with the Lovelandtown lift bridge stuck in mid-air, a drink beckoned him. He sat next to Vince DeSantos, a small, stout man, with a bowling

Four from “Autobiographies”

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The white space beckons-/ a blank wall in a decrepit neighborhood-/ wishing to be decorated or defiled

Let's Walk This Dog

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if you don't quiver with anticipation you'll barely manage to explode

Hollywood Sugar

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No pain is private. How can it be?

The wooden man: 12 fragments for Easter

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The wooden man came to her in a cloud in a vision in a dream in a story. When he spoke, his tongue clacked against his teeth.——As soon as she woke up, she knew the wooden man was in her belly. She felt heavy with him, fatigued. All she wanted to eat was…

Aurora Borealis

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I recalled the one night stand I'd had with the girl one balmy summer night in Minneapolis. We lay on my bed in the moonlight, and I touched the nipples of her tiny breasts with the thumb and pinkie of one hand.