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In the small towns of central and southern Illinois there lives a very indecent sort of man.
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“Help us, help us,” the children are saying. “They’ll come back. Help us. They bite.”
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Beware of shouting Dress Barn, Dress Barn! when having an orgasm
And don’t tell him you were seeing Starbucks when you came
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I am the ocean. My soulless organs live in all of its motionless movement. I am the low. The high. The in between. I am nothing. Back and forth, I simply float along: existing, rising, and then falling into a life that can be considered one big decision left…
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...my books have lots of swear words. So there's that.
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They run nonstop for weeks. Between traffic stalled cars. Down forgotten subways tunnels drilled long ago in the cold earth. Past burning sugarcane fields.
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For Takama this created the second conundrum of the day. One even bigger than the first. When he’d first learnt that sensei and he would be boarding a flight together for a series of demonstrations in Geneva, little had he expected he would be locked up i
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we ran that afternoon/across Bayshore lanes/into green blooming fields, beyond all those
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My businessman does as his nature allows him. He is so cute. All day long he makes deals. He is on his phone most of the time. He raises his voice. “Fuck those fuckers, just do it,” is what he says. My businessman hedges risk on his investments by keeping…
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My story begins where so many have ended, strapped fast to a cold table, just moments from a lobotomy needle and anything resembling the man that I am.
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Frank was happy to leave the art show and take the train back to SoHo.
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I had a sister-in-law who was a licensed nutritionist. Not sure what “licensed” means, but she had some certificate and worked in a hospital. Hospitals! Places not known for their cuisine, much less their nutrition. —So, what do you…
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Jim Morrison moved
ever so slightly
in the cold of his grave
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I know you through the rich dark brown soilcrumbling in my fingers like chocolate cake.I imagine you nurtured bell-shaped papayas,coaxing their smooth, leathery skinfrom green to yellow,while mangoes, the colors of the island sunset,hung with their tantalizing sweet…
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I visited his loft last week. There were many exciting new pictures. Francesco was your main money earner before, now he will be again.
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I was like a bullet shot from a university tower
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Yesterday I saw Marco Polo getting a tattoo on East Olive. He was practicing Mandarin Chinese with the tattoo artist who was also Chinese. He got a yin yang symbol on his bicep. He looked to the east and saw the hills lift themselves into sky. He grimaced
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My table offers up the gutted calf/
with carrots and potatoes yanked /
alive and whole
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Like when she said the word 'but', it came out ‘bet’.
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The questions piled up so high I thought I'd neverget through the door.The ease of alcohol, the incline of submission. Guttural sounds and spittle.Wipe down the morning afterwith a shower.Redress in last night's clothes.There's coffee if you want it.Sincerity too -no,…
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Winter will be cold this year, you tell her. You read that. She says she is with child with her new husband. You tell her she's forty-five, it is selfish. The baby. It's fine. You demand to be at her tests. Evan may let you, she says. He's a doll. She would never use that…
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Along with Bad Bunny
comes the reckless dancing
the ambulance chases
and the long, drawn-on faces
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John Davies paces nervously around an empty parking lot...
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Robbie took me out to Fox River on his father's ski boat one day, as he often did — but this time it was my eighteenth birthday. That was when he opened up his robe and showed me all there was to show of himself, begging me to make love to him, saying h
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A sort of invocation of the open sky, in contradistinction to the dark of the Earth whence came the specimens, a figurative marriage of the literal darkness of exploration and the figurative light of knowledge.
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She seizes my hand. I resist just enough to sense her strength.
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That night I came as close to getting laid as I had ever come in my life, without actually getting laid, after two and a half hours of intense petting, begging her to go down in the front seat of my car, with her asking: Why? Why, Jerry? Why? That was a
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An expanse of trees, grass, scrub, heathers, sky, space. A grey horse, the type her gran would have placed a bet on, approaches. "Don't like flies?" he asks. He holds her gaze, walks closer. Seventeen black flies crawl over the right side of his head. "What…
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