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Transport

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Ruth carries always a small bottle of nitroglycerin; and tissues, wads of tissues; two Tums (for calcium, she tells me)...

Bio Bit

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It was your present world that seemed more than mad to me. Your polished stiff brown shoes that always squeaked like mice, while the latest rude Bombers bubbled up in their comfortable Dart-board garages like apple pies…

Secrets of Philadelphia

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Bruce Springsteen begins singing from the loud speaker he was bruised and battered and couldn’t tell what he felt.

Honey Gold

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your light is gonna last me through the week

Exhale

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It's as if the house knew I was relinquishing my hold on it.

Not Good Enough

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So where does that leave me, Roscoe Loomis wondered, dismounting his silver, aluminum steed in his sweat-soaked, spandex outfit, and, clearing the saliva from his beard he walked over, checked and smiled, learning that the bike track's timing unit showed it was Roscoe's…

Esmeralda

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Being an uncredited bonus composition, written in the sublimest access of divine afflatus this poet believes his lyric verse has ever known. “In olden times, dark was not counted fair”: Those were the words, I think, of some old poet. …

Sad without Tears

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Sometimes, to be sad, you don't need tears.

For J.S. Bach’s Three-hundred-twenty-eighth Birthday

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To listen is to feel embodied reason// sing and dance with consummate grace

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 7

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Frank kept looking over at Michiko’s loft.

Inversions of Pound: Canto I

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these tender girls tears recent / with stained souls, brides of dead, / cadaverous Erebus; unguarded ladder / long the down going…came Anticlea then

Revisionist History

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A break from bleak world history and events...

An Open Letter To Lance Armstrong

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When I get my legs pumping, I’ll pop a spoke if I'm not careful. Massive fucking energy! And all that fat I was talking about? I don’t even really have that much of it, any of it really. My body fat is like one percent, which the doctors tell me isn’t

Seasonal Affective Disorder

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A man of action would take to his rake/ but Sloth would rather watch and wait/ for snow to erase each leaf on leaf.

Shoot the Moon

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Neither of us thought of real winning. We set about brilliant losing, dark angel forms of luck and greed, the desire, the craving, the need to lose so strenuous that one wins; we tied at thirteen.

Eternal Return

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When I slip through the seams I return to the same place.

Highway 17 South

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did I read that right?

Any Given Recent Day

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Ten-year-old Bobby Akins learned that a shotgun shell struck on its brass end with a hammer can indeed take out the left eye of an eight-year-old brother observing the proceedings close by.

Vesper

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. . . how a body calls in the dark. . .

The Cherry

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He then spent his walk home to his single apartment spitting up various textures of red, combinations of cherry and blood mostly.

All Men With Well Trimmed Beards

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Or, do my own red flags counter balance his. My back and forth, my restlessness, my one foot out the door, my ‘once a leaver… always a leaver’, my pitter patter for a former flame... peppered with my transgressions, my mistakes. Or, worse, the way I have

Blue Baby

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they taught art

Another Way

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If there was another way to describe emptiness, I'd word the endlessness of the sky, of the ocean at low tide.

The Song of Jerome

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"My love is with eggs!"

Worry Is for the Well-Rested

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I'm in the boardroom, downtown in San Francisco. I don't even remember showing up for work today. I hope they fire me, just like they fired Bill. Well not exactly like that, that was awful. He was caught downloading a phenomenal amount of…

The Road

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we were traveling on wasn't necessarily going to go careening over any hill as fast as it was smashing into the blunt end of another cloudless hole like a cartoon cat chasing a cartoon mouse. It was huge like a stone wall that had its own…

Trash Burning, 1976

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This time the bag's bigger/than the boy and the door.

Steel and Spell

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Pen or sword? Pick one/choose your battles carefully/for the paths oppose

loose threads

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Blankets were always her undoing.

Carnival Beach

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Galloping people, tangled in ballets of hot love, weaving in and out, making a canvas of it.