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fragments of their lives survive

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Only fragments of their lives survive, like broken Sapphos. I have known them, alleged killer of themselves for the love of a man., but we know this is an invention. The leader of a whole guild of girls, who wrote 7 books of poems. What happened to them

The Afterglow

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I knew we were going to fail. The night we met, when we got out of the car, I dropped my green glove in that puddle, you picked it up but it was ruined. That set the precedent for our whole life together. You can't look at me anymore. My cigarette…

Whither Butter Sculpture?

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Would we have been satisfied with a humble butter sculpture of a cow in 1960? Puh-lease! Would Parisians of the Impressionist era swoon over a big-eyed child picture?

Breaking Point

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I can do the hot coals, no problem. Or, your love, eyes closed. Or your sneer, spank, suffering, resentment, rejection.

To Whom It May Concern:

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Now, we can argue about how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, but there is no doubt that it takes eight spritzes of Scrubbing Bubbles bathroom cleaner, three spritzes of Lime-Away, and then a 30 second spray of Oust to incapacitat

Purpose

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I gave you two daughters. I gave you four grandchildren. I'm done.

This Time

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This time the mountain climber does not attain the summit.

Forecast for Mid-December

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In the next week or two, the red oak/ will loose and lose its leaves

children

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today on the bus/ a man in his fifties/ smiled at a baby/

Exhale

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

Her Man in the Navy Blues

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In that time when the trunk was getting cleared out and when it became only the empty shell of what had once been so important, many things hit the match. She burned an old black negligee, a picture competing with the likes of a Vargas girl and other thin

the total compiler

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The idea of an infinite textual universe occurs in many places in the works of Jorge Luis Borges. The contexts and permutations of language, which others had held to be perhaps infinite (allowing themselves to use such an imprecise term), that…

Oyster

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"Maybe…" he began searching for some comforting wisdom. "Maybe it's like this. Husbands live for their wives. Mothers live for their children. And children...well...until they're husbands or wives, they live for themselves."

Old Friends Getting Older

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I just amuse myself by buying old guns and refurbishing them in my basement as I listen to old Bohemian polkas on cassettes.

Troy

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It’s layer VII we adore/ and mourn

ANALOG

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We’re going to talk about our future like the Rick Dees Weekly Top 40. Like there are 40 great songs this week about our future.

Fulton Flapper

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The Italian was late. She was supposed to come into the store, meet him in the back, and arrange to take the last of his liquor.

Snarket

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Shit, I guess I'm gonna hafta

A Year and a Day Then

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Removing the deeply embedded jack-blade frommy naked side, like any slicked-upsplinter, was just a bit jarring on the first bite, on first try, I must admit. I freelydo so now to your frozen-over faces. You made your…

Meteorology

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Among the raindrops/ occasional plopping snowflakes.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 7

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Frank kept looking over at Michiko’s loft.

The Bachelor's Hymnal

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OhYou like quiet nights in?I do tooBut we might not get alongbecauseOnly part of youwants silence

missing item #7

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in her bedroom, opening night of his solo show she is snapping her nylons to center the seam stretching from her toes to where the line disappears into the hem of her dress.

The Meeting

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When he leans back from the telescope through which he had been looking, he sports a derby and a Hercule Poirot moustache.

Brothers

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The young boy woke to the sound of laughter. He blinked himself out of deep sleep and allowed…

Unclassifieds 1

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*Must have excellent communication skills and be able to talk pretty good.

Session

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Maybe it might be best to, you know, have less frequent meetings.

Cat Woman Sexy #9

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He kept saying how my old scars excited him to new truths

Coming From Alabama

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In the state that the stars fell on, Love and I stumbled upon bits of God where he forgot sky and moon, too.

Burned

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They called him “Albert, the Human Armadillo,” and he was. Rows of hard scales ran down the course of his chest, and he was studied and biopsied by doctor after doctor. “Psoriasis,” they said. “Or, eczema.” They prescribed ointments and oils that left him