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Flickers

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Saturday at Portobello market. Wind whittles leaves from the trees; casts shop signs into windows, turning glass to shimmering fishscale.

Losing It

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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".

Waiting for Wanda

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And why rabbits? Rabbits never went to a slaughter house. Rabbits died in the road, run over by cars, shot by prepubescent boys or eaten by dogs but never slaughtered in mass. It didn’t make any sense, thought Art and he wanted to ask the small man i

Trickery

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Maybe it was a trick of the gloom.

Zombies In The Time of Nineteen Eighty-Four

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I was watching the bustling crowd below, sipping on a teacup full of Victory Gin when the scream, no a howl, cut through the murmuring of footsteps and telescreens.

Sister Rosetta

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I left the train, still going nowhere, but in a hurry. Still a boy, but trapped in a suit.

Ballad

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Hi de ho, and hey, hey, hey; The farmer's daughter is made of hay. I went to touch her but she blew away, And noo ma hert is nae langer gay. Hi de hoo, and how do you do? The farmer's wife has a cold up her flue, And takes me away…

Modern Car Problems

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Sitting in the car, John had the urge to kill himself.

Cremains

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I need a different storage solution

wintering

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a name is what you are, and a name is a wall between. one day let me be earth, so you may be allowed to say you love me. for now i am separate. i'm afraid that's how i will die, and …

Context and Confessional Poetry

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I like babies and little kids, more than some people but goddamn, children's laughter out of nowhere (in the night, when you're not expecting it) is creepy. I don't like slugs smeared like nightmare goo on my summer-bare feet, I could do without them in …

Coffee and Cream F**k the Shit out of Me

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Of course they (the cof­fee and cream) were lovers, chem­i­cally made for one another, warmly explor­ing their part­ner's par­ti­cles with the pas­sion of a first kiss.

There Is No Glass

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I'm a heathen in the church of the absolute.

Psychics or Ouija Boards - Who Ya Gonna Call?

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Madame B would come once a week and tell me things that I needed to know in exchange for some free items. She would come and grasp my hand while telling me the same thing week after week. Madame B always told me to relax and things would eventually come.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 55

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Zoë’s divorce lawyer, Arno Aghajanian (“Double A” to his friends), sat at his desk in Los Angeles reading a copy of the Hollywood Intelligencer.

We Should All Have One Great Love

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My dumb body that does not speak still cried out your name last night. Did you hear it, maybe in your sleep?

DOOMSDAY CORN A GRIM FAIRY TALE Written under the guise of a children’s story But primarily written for adults

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Our entire planet became poisoned by the monoculture system of agriculture. Mother Earth, who is the very soil we stand on, play on, dig in; Mother Earth, who is the very air we breathe, laugh in, talk in; Mother Earth, who is the very streams, river

raging bull guy

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I’d made that shot a thou­sand men­tal times, and when it counted, I missed. It hap­pens.

Inmate Words

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in White Heat there’s a character who reads lips using a mirror to see the mouths of prisoners in other cells that’s how I feel when I talk with you

The Sentence

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Two women are escorted to the desert, where they are shackled to the ground. Who are they, what have the done, and will they survive?

Excelsior - A Poem in 9 Parts (post 2 of 5)

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II. ByCoalport Your hair streams minarets across a bridge, The…

Loveless Lover

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Love me like a crutch Love me when I'm strong

The Moon in Winter

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Winter is a particle yet unknown to science. Someday it will be described in terms of spins and magnetism. It will be set in high school physics books and there contained: look, here is winter. Graduate students will split it into cold and melancholy and poets will…

a supermarket horror story

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stoned,/ i made the mistake/ of walking to the store across the busy street/ to find myself in the middle/ of the pep-up/ for a basketball game/ or something like that.

Hostage Festival

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“We’re prisoners,” Sean reminded the guard. “Prisoners of your military.” “You have never been treated as such.” Captain Hughes looked around the bar. “This festival is a celebration of you, of all of you. We pride ourselves on ou

I Don't Understand Poets

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I haven’t read many of them, these poets that they speak of – Whitman and his Leaves Of Grass, Mary Oliver and her wild life

The Head

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So I've got this head in a jar and I'm not sure who it belongs to.

A Poem for Chris Toll

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we all die from the bottom up

Laidlaw

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There were too many laws but not enough of the kinds she wanted. She wished for the right to go shopping. Then taste rather than disposable income or access to finance could distinguish people.

Sleeping Apes and Washing Dishes: What I Learned From Magazines This Week

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Eat blueberries every day and you'll live to be a 92 year old mogul. Really.