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At the Revolution

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When we go to the streets/ we’ll have no guns

Intimate Dialogues - "Ledge"

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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

Editing Academic Papers at 2AM

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To stop myself from imagining myself/ kissing you on your face, feeling your/ eyelashes on my lips as I pass over them,/ I imagine myself murdering you with/ an axe instead...

Cats

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Steve lowers himself onto a lounge chair and lets out a long, overdue sigh. Cliff and Jim, the frickin’ and frackin’ of the built-in pool industry, are making a Burger Chef run while the cement sets.

Dragonfly

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Dragonfly She danced out of the burning rubble, wrapped in a shawl made of iridescent silk. It must have been her grandmother's. Her arms were wings, the silk translucent and fluttering. Fire fell from the sky. Thatched roofs, walls of mud-daubed sticks, the huts…

Time Change in Florida #2

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Time Change in Florida #2 Sapped, yes. But not finished. Not yet.So what if I mostly live in my head?Who says I have to be out running aroundimproving body income outgo technical savvy? The dizzy awe of a Southwestern …

A Little Man on a Rainy Corner

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He is sitting in the infinite rain and the water is making him some infinite silhouette

Snowbound

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Shut up.You shut up.That's disgusting.You should talk.Fuck off.Fuck me.whore.Yes.More.Shut up.

If Hell...

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the sour waft of a secret

Song: Nope, music by Tim Young, lyrics by Jerry Ratch

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paste into browser: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsSKsjOTCFU&feature=em-upload_owner

how i saw you sail

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I had a friend in high school that wore a size G bra and we would take guesses on how much her tits weighed in comparison to the rest of her body. I spent a night wondering how she kept upright.

1992, What I Wanted

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I once dreamed of taking a trip to Northumbria with a lover and reading the poem together on the fells.

JOSEPH YOUNG

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JOSEPH YOUNG Joseph Young You might start with the top of the head, where the heat goes. This is first, first from the womb, the first word. Joseph Young There might have been a faith that placed it in the mouth, not the…

au

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the way we fit...alchemy

Monsters

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I have always been frightened of Ferris Wheels

Joel, I'm Not A Concept

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Email flash: Kate Winslet is separated hope wells in dry souls

Freedom

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the darkness held frieghtened by the surveillance of a distant white shimmer.

A Drowning

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This is the record of a drowning.

Him

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He is poised erect before me. I take pleasure in soft skin that does not betray the strength of his cock, firm and yet vulnerable beneath my fingertips. With my hands, I coax him to his full length, girth. Tonight I ignore the heat of my Delta and bow my head in worship…

Momma's Elephant

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...she had marked the stars with a blue pen, connected the dots to make Andromeda, Cassiopeia, told us of the gods behind the stars...

I Go Cold Keyboard at End of Day

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Excuse me, can I now ask to change my favorite childhood color from green to yellow?

Transgression

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I look as sympathetic as I can, under the circumstance, which is entirely unsympathetic.

stye

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poked in the eye

Mama

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There were ten thousand photographs buried in the bottom of the jar

"Your face seems faint against the violet glades..."

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Your face seems faint against the violet glades; The long winds echo once, then fail to start. Some wounding scent has stripped my hopes apart That dwelled to scent you. From the cavalcades The leaves make, bare at times since eve's sting fades To…

Assiduity Nineteen

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Luv walks around touching everything with her little hands. Uzma follows behind her, talking sweetly, saying: "This is going to be your new home for a while, darling."

Into the Mirror

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Her eyes still fixed on him as if to whisper her concerns of fidelity.

Session Fifteen

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"That it was my stepdad's fault."

THE BOATMAN OF THE BADLANDS

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A 20-footer up on skids sky-blue paint beneath the bondo

Excelsior - A Poem in 9 Parts (post 3 of 5)

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IV. From Hoover Dam The intent of passive presence wreathes an endless ring, Invisible, beyond all thoughts and change to sickness. This hour beats sibylline as vacancy, breathing Through mouths that do not taste their nothingness. I do not know where you are;…