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The feline apotheosis of Ish -
Shroedinger’s cat.
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In the center of the big diorama, the real world hangs in the air by a hook.
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Like when she said the word 'but', it came out ‘bet’.
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The roses ask for you when I smell them
They seem to remember your touch more than
others. They can’t bear it when you’re gone
and wonder when you’ll be returning
I am beginning to do the same
I no longer go outdoors to be with them
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1419 11 10
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Back then we used to dance slowly to Sam Cooke's “You Send Me” on your parquet floors, whispering about planting our vegetable garden, planning to seed the lawn with centipede grass, promising to count all the red cars that came down the street.
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I had the idea while I was in the county jail. I would get jail glasses; I wouldn’t be me; I’d be some other person. I could pretend that it was someone else rotting away in that 8x12 cell.
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During the hangover, I crawl to my desktop computer and then Google “rapid STI testing” and “speedy divorce”
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Marie and Mary lay side by side, partitioned by flimsy blue vinyl on cheap plastic rollers.
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we ran that afternoon/across Bayshore lanes/into green blooming fields, beyond all those
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I hand one of them the octopus and run out of the room.
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Then there was this short little girl, Jo Ann, who had a daughter and was divorced, who lived next door to my buddy Andy. She told me right after we did it one night that she had always wanted to have sex with me when she was growing up, as a teenager, I
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1418 1 1
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It was a mildly windy day of the working week in the financial district of the city—the bright morning sun was out—when a security guard was called to the fifteenth floor to deal with a disruption.
“This way.”
Someone pointed to a desk. At the desk
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Tiny skiers look like beetles/on a white bedspread. /We watch them fall to earth from/the high peaks and tell ourselves
this is the week that sealed it
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IV. Upwards, into the white eye rising, There is will, to stay, yet stays no will to be. Come,…
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Bobby turned black yesterday. Not like his ethnicity, or skin color. But his soul. Not his soul. Not black either. But a violet desecrating blue. That kind of blue that use to sit in the ocean, then dried up, and vanished into a big terrifying stupor. He looked at me with…
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1418 15 11
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My father taught me how to solder and that's when I first started to write. Now, when you hold the soldering iron in your hand and depress the trigger, the tip of the gun heats up. Novices uncoil the solder and place it on the hot tip, but that just results in it…
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1418 0 0
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You know what happened. You heard about it. We were considered unuseful to the Nazis and were gassed in those shower rooms. It was all over so quick; I had hardly a chance to understand. I really did not feel anything because before it was over, I, being
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Picture it-/
air not clogged with the shit//
that makes Beijing the dark joke/
of the developed world.
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I AM A FIRE SWAN!
THIS IS MY QUILT!
YOU ARE MY QUEEN!
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1417 3 1
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She seizes my hand. I resist just enough to sense her strength.
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The door flew open, hitting the wall, and the woman seated in the corner across from her pressed herself against the bench. Loretta saw that down through her petticoats came a trickle of yellow liquid, which pooled on the floor.
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1417 10 8
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If you stop, you starve//
and they just offer what you do/
to others, starved already,/
and schooled, as you, in servitude.
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Once in a while I have the time of my life /
in this god-forsaken Earth:
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there is a tunnel / between your skin and the ground / for kisses to crawl
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1417 4 2
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Frank was happy to leave the art show and take the train back to SoHo.
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Write me a Will you laughing boy,
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Hands and fingers feeling down
Cross the boundaries I laid
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We are our own pathogens.
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But that last night in Europe, getting ready to fly out of Amsterdam back to the States, I heard this Phil Collins song, “In the Air Tonight,” which expressed some of the turmoil and confusion and whole-life hysteria I was feeling inside. Waves of fru
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