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Errol

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He prided himself on being not menacing like a bear.

The Morning

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

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 Cicada's Complaint

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Shiva and Zeus convene a focus group. “It wouldn’t work,” the panel votes. “Those leaf eaters would strip the trees and crops if we let them come back every year.” “That’s true,” Jehovah reasons. “Remember that plague of locusts I sent down?”

M. Nerveux Chronicles: Toad Suffers a Bad Business

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Herr Toad smokin'

Junk Pulse

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Me included...

Seeds of Summer

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Excerpt

Split second

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When people talk about the end moments when one's life flashes before his or her eyes, they often refer to time as slowing down. I can attest to this phenomenon during my final moments, before the collision: the song playing on the radio, the squeal of tires and flash of…

ancients

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rheumy eyes wink, gnarled hands pantomime

C-ing History

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Conjure calamity and calamity comes.

Neediness, Incarnate

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7 — IT'S HARD TO HAVE FRIENDS WHEN YOU'VE NEVER HAD ANY AND ARE STILL FUCKING WHINING ABOUT IT — Once he learned he didn't “bring anything to the table,” Worthless Veikass hit on the notion of [...]

Inventorying

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Me sad because of results set forth in my life story.

Afterglow

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The drone of radio seeps into the car’s back seat… I hear only bits and pieces of information –

Tu me rends fou

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Feeding you a taste of croissant

Norm Bladdon, Private G.I.

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I'd had a long, hard fall from the pinnacle of the profession. I made the mistake of accepting a mouse pad, coffee mug and a fleece pullover with the logo of Upchux, an anti-reflux drug, on the left breast where you'd get heartburn.

Sunbelt Winter Sketches

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Sunlight and the small wind/ swallow the frost/ on rooftops and windshields

At the Brooks Brothers Hip Hop Summit

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I pat my pocket to make sure everything’s in order; a Starbucks blueberry scone to sustain me, a $50 Brooks Brothers gift card from my in-laws, and my “piece”–a fully-charged BlackBerry handheld device.

Sorting through two forms of stupid

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Does modeling come easily to me? Am I made for the camera? Not exactly. When I pose for a shot, I feel, well, like a poser, really.

The Bowery Scene (Memoir, 1981; edited by Charlotte Curtis)

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It is easy to look out on the Bowery and say, "There are the bums." Encountering one, however, even one who asks to "bum a quarter" or tells you he's "on the bum" the word "bum" slips away in one's mind...

His Name is Chaos

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Should probably be faster at the cash register

There is a Sadness

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now I cannot shake. I am only one person. Thereis a sadness I cannot understand. Fathom. Control. Manipulate. Detonate.I used to kiss her tenderly. Do you think this sadness is wise to us? Don't point that gun at me! There is a sadness. There is another war. Iam…

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.

Washing the dishes...

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There are certain items in the sink that are giving me an anxious feeling in my stomach.

The Lonely Gaze of Men in Nightclubs

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Quarts of philosophy may be transacted by semantic obstetrics.

Spaghettiad

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In the mode of Swinburne's ‘Dolores':For the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster- A study of the notion of “Intelligent Design” Since the universe came into dawning, If e'er this bright universe did, Men ought to know better in…

Mind-Body Split

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The mirror can never talk back/ unless corrupted creases of the brain/ and its recombinant physical maladies// elect to answer...

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.

Loveless Lover

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Love me like a crutch Love me when I'm strong

Leaping Through Flames

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I should have never gotten involved in such a huge lie. I was a poet, for God's sake, not a novelist. I wasn't used to lying.

Bridges Are a Lot Like Long Corridors

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Nothing good ever waits at the end of a long corridor.