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Philip Guston, Painting, Smoking, Eating

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As far as I can tell, all he eats is wedges of cake from the plate on top of his blanket as he lies there in bed, smoking cigarettes and staring up at the painting of a pile of shoes. Or else this is a real pile of shoes building up beside the

The Majesty of the Infinite

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The other night at work, some kid was in for swallowing a snail's shell. He was nine and, according to the computer, did not have cognitive insufficiency. That last bit was probably put there to make us all not feel guilty about laughing at him.

Empty Pockets

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We dance on rooftop, then I fall off.You're like, "oh shit."Pale blue lobster finds me. Says, "hello." Taps me with claw, "wake up." Looks around, concerned. Shakes me with two claws on collar.Scuttles away for a second.Comes back with warm, perfect, round glazed doughnut.…

Poetry Whores

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Something’s been eating at my craw. I’m just going to go ahead and spill it all out. You ever hear about Poetry Whores? Well, let me tell you a little about them, because if I don’t, then who will? I’m not going to name names. You can pretty much guess

Exoskeletal

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Tell you what, if people only knew what the buggo does to your insides before it shellacs your outsides they'd think twice before dancing. And guys like us, we'd get parades. Guys like us, oof-oof! Im-mune to romance.

Write me a Will

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Write me a Will you laughing boy,

In the Air Tonight

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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

Kandie Contretemps

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She sat in a tall chair and there was only one time in the interview that she took her sunglasses off. She didn't really take them off, but just pulled them down for an instant with thumb and forefinger in order to look out at something going past the window. They said…

BLUE

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A subway train rumbled through the underground and she actually felt it slither under her feet. Her gaze lingered for a moment on the desiccated leaves and the small rectangle of blue cardboard the blustery wind had wedged between the gargoyle's talons.

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…

A Ship of Bones

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Make paddles of his hands Use his skull to bail Rig his thigh bones for a mast And his skin to make a sail

At the Jr. Algonquin Roundtable

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“He didn’t finish ‘The Witchcraft of Salem Village,’” Scooter says, tattling on his little brother. I’m projecting him to be a first-round draft pick by the National Security Agency in about ten years.

The Late, Late Show

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Camilla and I watched a movie, then we were the movie. A man wandered in a decrepit house, or in a dream of a house, which had wallpaper hanging like shredded flesh and little mounds of filth and a madwoman with a butcher knife creeping from room to room with fear or…

Autobiography 22: It’s Not Just the Income

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Unless they leave you comatose,/ it’s the disasters you remember.

My Insides Are Made Of Water

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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…

Old Joke

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How many exceptional people/ does it take to change a light bulb?

"they call me the midnight gambler"

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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

our last time

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If you had gotten pregnant our last time, in 1967 (when you lied and told me “I guess I’m finally over you,”) then our son could have been that man you saw with the drooping moustache and his coattails flying in the lobby of the building in Louisville,

Begonia {part seven}

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Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh; the rhythmic thrust of Mezereon’s wings…Th-Bumm, th-bumm, th-bumm; the drumming of his heart…Hooou, hooou, hooou; the exhalations of his breath…

“Honestly, I’m Not a Fan of Your Poetry”

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I will admit it. // I cannot write poetry / to save my life—

Jeans

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Jeans. You passed yours along to me with some helpful tips.

Ballad

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Hi de ho, and hey, hey, hey; The farmer's daughter is made of hay. I went to touch her but she blew away, And noo ma hert is nae langer gay. Hi de hoo, and how do you do? The farmer's wife has a cold up her flue, And takes me away…

Passing a Church

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Does God feel the same way / whenever you practice your indifference toward me

Love Verse

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A gentle man, and a fierce woman, charmed one another in a shaded gazebo.

My Life on Discord

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I’m on Discord but I don’t know how to do anything.

In an Irish pub with a lot of oiled wood

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“I love women. They’re like goddesses.”

A Study in Plastics

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She sat Indian style against the strawberry tree. In her hand she held a little mirror and a note that her father left her that morning. What a night, eh? See you in the morning. That’s what it said.

egg

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...

My Father Said, "I Miss the Game."

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Of course he misses it,

After all

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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,…