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Quarter-turn the Quaternion

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One could count fifty moons hanging in the sky, in rows and columns of smaller skies.

This Is Why

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Look at this castle: fashioned from the sturdiest sand, pages of my name

Mr. Sunrise

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To a tech-savvy millennial, the definition of progress is a hands-free blowjob, and the real number is not how many men you’ve been with but how many minutes you’ve made them wait.

Wild Origin

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Seeking your will, instead we found, somehow, a clutch of our own documents; folded under a rubber band gone to rot, muddy strands nestled in the creases.

How We Fight

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HORDES OF MEN desolated, struck down, destroyed, sunken form of skin and skeleton, bare cloth matted to torso, bodycage and hipbone, face and neck darkened, bloating to black, rain the endless dream stuck fast in the stone-dead skull and blood a fine sheen over all,…

Lullaby

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I never meant to shipwreck you, I didn't even know I was singing out loud. I just stood on my rock a little too boldly, and hummed a tune you wanted to hear.

Not So Thoughtful After All

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She put the Necco wafer on Sally's tongue."You can't be the priest, Emma" Sally said nearly choking on the hard, chalky disk."Then why you on yaw knees stupid?""You said to be prayin' and like in church, but you can't be doin' priest stuff. That's for…

The Boot

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my crotch-heavy press of 'Yes.'

Good Belongs to You

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I hope you enjoyed the celebration last night. Good things always come to you. I thought your family would never go home. I didn't get to sleep this morning until 2:59, although I had set my alarm to 6:10. I didn't want you to miss your plane. At daybreak,…

Contained

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You’re listening to Smooth FM, taking you from the darkest hours to the start of a brand new day.

Excerpts from 'Dispatches from the Front: My Life in NE Portland—diary by JENA RACHEL ROCKWELL (year 08)'

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I'm getting self-righteous here, Dear Reader . . . [hey! wait a second! this is my diary! what are you doing, looking at it, dude! Hit the road! Scram! Vamoose!]

Amanda Palmer

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Amanda Palmer's explaining the eyebrow thing. An altercation with someone at Roadrunner, or maybe old boyfriend shit to burn— She's animated but he's losing signal, filling in the blanks himself. Whatever, it won't light at first, and then WHUMP and she…

Conversations with my brother

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Maybe it takes as much fortitude To forget As it does To remember.

Her last good year

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“We are NOT starving!” I stated emphatically. “What ever gave you the idea that you are starving? Honestly, Annie, you are so melodramatic. You have food in front of you right now, don’t you?’ I said pointing to her plate of potatoes and so

Junk Pulse

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Me included...

Old Shoes for Stranded Soles

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There are stranded people just like us, that's Not necessarily what I'm looking for. Negativity won't pull us through the Barbed-wire halls of hate. And even if I Was the only one, I wouldn't want you To look any different in the mirror. I'm older …

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 Voice of My Body

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It's saying, "It feels as if you've given me your old, your tired and your poor. I feel much older than the years you've logged."

The Dead

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The dead want you to calm down.They are quite fine, and don't needyour post-mortem tears, the flowers and veils; their names mispronounced by preachers. None of your catechisms will do -- especiallyfor the children, who know them well and need no…

The Morning

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Early in the morning I wanted to send you something for when you wake;

Ben Clarone: Prologue Part 2

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This was not the bar that the artist usually frequented.

Absinthe Drinking in a Bar in Paris

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Half past six; already, through the gloom Saltwater flourish sifts from wharfs that ply Their play like girls that haunt the midnight's womb, As far it seems as walks of Barbary. Within the bar, French waitresses and sots Play dice with time awhile and rub…

Apathy.

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I'm not sure whetherI drink to numbthe pain or toactually feelsomething.

The Last Warrior

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His wings, like tiny shoots, grew a season in an instant. The pain was gone now. He rose up as effortlessly as centaurs run, as angels fly. "I will sing your name as my brother among my brothers," the Seraph promised. Kladius watched the beasts below

Flash Before Your Eyes

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It was the dead of winter. I took my father's shotgun from his closet. He kept it wrapped up in one of those khaki-colored gun tote bags that had a zipper running the whole length of the gun. It was a 16-gauge, single action shotgun. Anyone could tell wha

Oopsy-Daisy!

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[This story definitely WON'T be appearing in this month's "Alfred Hitchock's Mystery Magazine"!]

Ghoster

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Ross, I've been a ghost hunter for almost 10 years now and this is a place I said I WOULD NEVER NEVER EVER go to!

The perfectly banal postcards...

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“There are so few uses for Crisco, that to keep it in the house seems an unnecessary temptation,” said my health teacher.

Two Weeks in a Dristan Land

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I smelled the bleach of burst anemones the sweet arousal of the Dungeness crabs the seaweed of sour twigs and feces

Unclassifieds 1

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