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1. On the morning of her eighteenth birthday, Eve woke to find herself transformed into a gigantic chess piece made of zeros and ones.2. Eve gazed so long at her smartphone that she found herself falling into it.3. She fell for a time that may have been short or long or…
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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
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gravel coughing up tires at 90 miles an hour
and just getting under way
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And, if you look real close, you see there’s a bullet hole next to his left ear. A stray one went past his head and straight through Santa’s heart.
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I was sleeping in a pile of teenage bodies soft limb spread over soft thin limb.
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I came to a field where, scattered around, were quite a few men digging holes
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A single woman should regard every train ride as an opportunity, I once read in one of those “How to Find A Boyfriend” books. “When boarding the train, don't take the first available seat,“ the author advised. “Walk through all the cars…
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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.
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Hey, Y'all! Like I told y'all, I checked myself into this what you call a “ facebook Rehab Clinic” up here just about 40 miles outside of Kalispell, Montana in a little town called Gulag. I quit MySpace and that got me a reduced rate. Things are…
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Finally my daughter emerges from behind the silver curtain, riding piggy-back on a gigantic proboscis monkey. She's preoccupied by his nose, and wrings it like a wet dishrag with both hands. If it hurts he's not showing it.
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Nights this husband returned home still hungry sometimes, even for her forearms against his own
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He invited her in for a Martini and she graciously accepted.
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All the things that are his.
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Where the skin had grazed, shredded by the coarse gravel to form scabs, fascinated Jack. It reminded him of his youth and his own grazes, scratches and stitches. As a boy he imagined scabs were rough foundations of igneous rock, blood like lava pouring th
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—Strip down to your shorts. Put on this gown, open to the rear.
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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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The silver urn of ashes inscribed
with his unknown name.
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They make you work
For your pizza in Italy
You have to slice it yourself
While wearing a gas mask
To ward off the cigarette smoke
From every neighboring table
While chasing away the
Mosquitos and the pigeons
The flies and the gypsy r
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The smell of garlic, soy, and onions/
exhausted from Skillman Wok/
perfumes December air.
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You’ve got Wikipedia. Look them up: vagina and penis. What Wikipedia will not tell you, however, is the thousands of years of human anguish, and rapture, wrapped up in those two organs.
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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 …
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After sex he would get on his old refurbished upright piano and always play that same song. We came to know it as the After-Sex Song.
It was really quite lovely, and touching. I think it made us all feel better around that building. Yeah, I remember t
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ghosts of the previous owners who leave a trail of whispers
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Rachel Stevens is an attractive woman I notice her long fair skinned legs and think that She must wear sun block to live in Arizona And have skirts like that. Today she invites me inside, She says she has a light bulb for me to change — up high. In a friendly…
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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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I don't mind being dead. It's ok. Really. I've discovered a whole new way of being based on non-being. What else can you do? I like being invisible. I like groaning and rattling chains. I used to be a writer. Still am. In fact, it might be more accurate to say that…
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What are our reigning philosophies today, what dominant schools inform and lead our intellectual efforts, inspire our blissful reveries, inflame our breathless humanity?
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