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Magdalena followed the receding tide, her tiny feet leaving no rumors in the hard sand. She gathered only the most beautiful shells and presented them to her waiting Abuela. Her grandmother told her that the only things that a woman truly owns are her dreams. She told her…
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It is claimed we choose/
conditions of our servitude.
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Dear Patricia, You look marvelous. You seem marvelous. You've added wonder to Oprah's life and that's no small feat. But, here's the thing. I was working on this short story about a relative trying to get in touch with O, one of thousands, except, this one, well this one…
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When I met Gregor Samsa he was still a cockroach, erratic and skittish whenever the light came on. We often spoke in the dark. I empathized with the man. I mean bug. Ok. That isn't fair. You can't call a man a bug because he chirps and eats dried skin cells. A…
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Suddenly something clicked.
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your words that came crashing over me/
so cold the clear shock was like salt water
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The stain upon / many others cannot be discerned.
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two pairs of arms and legs
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I. Two cancer scares since June, one came up nothing the other nothing much. (My breasts are dense: I know all about moles— little bastards don't have to get sun to go nuts.) My manuscript travels ether to…
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Last night as a duration spent hovering in electronic media-space.
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at all altitudes and at all latitudes /
glaciers in furious melt: / both Greenland and Antarctica headed both /
to be ice-free isles adrift / and with shorter coastlines amidst higher seas.
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The first of the fires that started by the river in the abandoned mills were so hot they burned white and pale blue
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Every day, I write myself further away
From the East
Where we began
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Even music relies on what/
you know as music/
for its power to enthrall.
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The spectacle of weather/
on the prairies approaches.
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She had just done it in the backseat with the man she decided would be her father. Or maybe it was the cast of his eyes under the dim bar lights. Maybe she insisted that this had to be done, to relive the night under the stars, under a dented roof of a station…
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your light is gonna
last me
through the week
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When they tell you to choose your last meal, it probably hasn't dawned on you yet.
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My sixth grade teacher used to tell us all the time about how being poor is nowhere near the same as living in poverty.
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It was cold and clammy, but then it got worse. Far worse. Any opportunity to celebrate the unity and harmony of tolerance was soon cancelled.
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The blood is memorable/
as is the copper taste of that/
momentary certainty of lockjaw.
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You cannot go back, you cannot go home, you cannot cannot cannot…Only in memory is it possible to travel back in time. We all imagine it. We relive happy moments, sad moments, we exist, time exists and it passes. We cannot stop it.
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they flew down the slopes
with her holding on
for all she was worth
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Describe my origami, the shape of a gun or a limp dick, or maybe a flower.
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To listen is to feel embodied reason//
sing and dance with consummate grace
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Even the old medicine woman seemed to grin with a perverted sort of understanding when she opened the door to find Lys waiting outside. She was comfortable nowhere and ready to flee at any moment.
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I still picture her waving her bare arms and hands into the purple bellied clouds above the trees, her crooked smile, the spiraling silver maple seeds cascading soft circles around her determined reach, as though the very tree limbs shaping the sky above
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