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Releasing Your Inner Bigfoot

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In the ’70′s, Bigfoot was romantically linked with Farrah Fawcett, spotted in an Arkansas 7-11 with Elvis, and tabbed the front-runner to be Secretary of the Interior had Gerald Ford defeated Jimmy Carter.

creation

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Leaving another seemingly pointless day at the office. 4:55pm. Winding through the office parking lot; turning right onto SE Convenience Blvd; inevitably pulling up to a red stoplight at the Orlabor intersection.My windshield is dirty. Speckled with thrown-up slush from…

God's Personal Microphones

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This is my melody. I will not shut it down for you, it will do that all on its own. Everyone knows this. I don't need you to go on holiday. Can't really get away from yourself. This is my color guard. It goes with the everything I am. I'm not sorry I grew…

Meal

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When they tell you to choose your last meal, it probably hasn't dawned on you yet.

Lovers on the Lawn

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One day, every girl I’ve ever slept with showed up on my lawn.

Everything that's Gone Wrong, has Gone Wrong Because of Football

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I’m not ready for football. I’m not ready for it, but I live in a southern town that worships at its altar more devoutly than those suicidal beauties in James Wright’s great poem.

Cold/Warm

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I wear boots over bare legs feigning ignorance To the coming storms, the snow the ice the cold

One Day We Grow Wings

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Cicadas shed their skin as they grow, leaving crisp hollowed out remains on tree trunks, fence posts, and the undersides of upturned leaves. Tommy and I would collect them in the early morning and stick them to our clothes like brooches. I used to like Tommy,…

You Don't Need To

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You need only one who notices.

Steel and Spell

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

Haiku Life

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A funny thing this life

Exquisite Now

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In the exquisite now, I feel everything around me, in me, before and after, I think, I should call you, say goodnight, but I do not, choose instead to write this poem, as though I can capture the magic of what is happening between us in words, A…

Cold

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I told her I didn't love her. She said love wasn't important; she wanted to marry a man she could respect.

Dead to Rights

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He draped the sheet over her body. Blood spotted the fabric, rose petals on snow.He left the pistol, but pocketed the first edition she'd signed. Part of his fee.In the park, he ditched the glasses, fake mustache, and anorak before making the call.The publisher called an…

On Unpredictability

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All that have changed in me, I give to you now.

13 imaginary friends

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1. He had thirteen imaginary friends. They knew him better than his mother did.2. His imaginary friends were all born of a cat on the night of a blood moon.3. His imaginary friends had grey skin and red eyes, giving them the appearance of dead people. Their cheeks flushed…

Southbound

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Maggie leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the Greyhound bus window. Over the river and through the woods, she thought watching the snow west of Interstate 95 melt away into skinny pines and palmettos. Brunswick 2, Jacksonville 70, slid by riding a …

Abandon

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They left the breath of their souls upon the lips of others and jumped in with all abandon They felt the winds on their skin as the heart flew by them on its way into the lost nature of time This time they flee the country of the soul

driving

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gravel coughing up tires at 90 miles an hour and just getting under way

before hell freezes over completely

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I remember how silk felt against skin, dressed in my damn flimsy things, while the cold bit my nipples. How I would lie in your arms when I was young, after being awakened from my pubescent slumber. (Enough of that!) In a rush to grow up for good, holdi

Slide Steel

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Fat Patty sniffs the delicate waft of peat and sidles over, proffering a grope in exchange for a few wet-lipped swigs. Hell yes.

you weren't this way

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i was in the fields, i was moss, was sticking my head in the columbine

Famine

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To be perfectly honest, I was lousy at my job. Or at least most aspects of it. The typing wasn’t a problem: I can get up to a hundred words a minute on a good stretch of unbroken text, and I’m pretty accurate. I even edited as I went, fixing passiv

Return of the Lost Ones

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I'm working through the rocky pine cones so you don't have to. I'm stepping over the little dreaming people in your dreams so we don't wake them with our loud and coming loose footprints. The poem passes by like a heartbreaking train…

Threshold

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But we proliferated back

Journey

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Do you know this song, Julia? I happened upon it one evening and only just before meeting you, a month before meeting, a month before arriving?

Have You Seen Me?

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It’s as she reaches into the fridge for the carton of half-and-half with the grainy waxy photo of the little girl—Last Seen 10/2/06—that the memory surfaces: “Hey. That’s mine.”

Late Night / Early Morning

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It's 2am. The wind is moving at speed, whipping gently the tree branches, and their leaves rustle simultaneously to create a audible sound, like hands flipping through sheets of paper, or that feeling you get on your fingertips when going across a textured surface. I'm…

The Child's Veil

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You said yes

Ichthyology

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The doctors said, when she was born, that the gills would eventually fade away on their own. Nothing to fear, they said; no more unusual than the rare child born with a tail, or a dense pelt of fur, or a single sharp tooth jutting from its new pink gums.