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Commotion with Coffee

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The retired, widowed receptionist slapped one hand to the base of her throat with a gasp . . .

Where is Home?

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We are both 53 and this is the first time I’ve gotten past a third date with anyone from Match. Seth is different. I’m not sure why. My therapist said, “Well, maybe you’ll be good for each other. You both have to accept that you are recovering, or in reco

Snark

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His Danger Pistol was out of bullets, his Bag of Tricks was empty, and he wasted his last can of Antimatter back at the lab. All he had was his Charm and his wits. Charm wouldn't last forever, and he'd always come up a little short in the wits department.

Advice To A Young Poet

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Touch these words with your mind. They will create an elephant with an unidentifiable itch.

In the Woods

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...come come come come...

The Fat Girl

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She never leaves her desk, but food appears like magic.

5 Poems In The Shape Of Other Poems

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the things we will accomplish, the things we will leave to others

Better Off In My Head

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The morning news. The birthday present you bought me. This poem. My hair when I wake up in the morning, at any given point in the day. Pigeon pose. My singing voice. How much I love myself. Coffee. Sex. Not having sex. Having movie star sex. Ha

skull of a sheep

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You are in a car speeding through Dublin towards the West year after year the journey uncoils past the same landmarks Kilmainham Jail strapped to a chair bullet to the brain on by the Rowntree Mackintosh factory where the black and yellow and orange and r

One in the Numberless Series of Requiems

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We perform our chosen duty— naming/ beauties and atrocities within

Vacuum City

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What chaos comes from / insufficiency? What else can calcify dreams?

Quintet in a Natural Key

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I like the cool and dark beneath my rock./ It protects me from the glare and scorch/ of noonday sun and the chilling shadows/ of midnight moon.

Cracked Heart Reigns in My Eyes

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Rainy eyes fall fast somewhere close to me Riding the wind like lust

Underpass

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The real problem, though, was the radiator.

Lost Among the Consonants

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I'm writing our initials in black sharpie on the tunnel wall. There's already people who have come before me, hundreds of pairs of Qs and As and hearts in the middle, through a small hole in the brick I can hear the French accents, spinning through, a reminder that I am…

Monogamy

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cummings starts to sniff, his usual routine. He feigns aloofness while raising one wolfy leg to pee on Eliot's sneakers.

when-one-of-your-two-divorcing-dearest-friends-says-Choose-it-turns-out-both-is-not-an-option

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fallout

The Strength of Glass

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They sit across from each other and she smiles as if they were in a normal place.

Tracks

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When dogs run free

The 83rd Meridian West

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The priest went into the place in those parts, the priest an old pear or grape gotten ripe and then moreso, but never actually expiring . He was hunched and it looked like he was broken at some integral part, but nobody could tell for sure where. One time, a bat…

2011

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This year, 2011, you bring about my thirtieth year. I'm apprehensive about this, but mainly because my father made me watch "Logan's Run" as a kid...

Noir vs. Noir

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You're sitting in a darkened theatre with Gothic ceilings and one exit watching the latest Alan Ladd film with William Bendix and Veronica Lake.

Waiting for Wanda

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And why rabbits? Rabbits never went to a slaughter house. Rabbits died in the road, run over by cars, shot by prepubescent boys or eaten by dogs but never slaughtered in mass. It didn’t make any sense, thought Art and he wanted to ask the small man i

Never End a Story with "And then he Awakes"

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Leaning toward Joshua, Stuart says softly, “Take it easy, okay? We’ll bury him. He shouldn’t be left here, in your kitchen.” Joshua glares. “Don’t you fucking move him.”

Santos

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Further down a small group of men lolled near a doorway.

As Faulkner's Birthday Nears, Mailmen Ask "What If?"

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Before he became famous Faulkner was postmaster at the University of Mississippi Substation Post Office, a fact that endears him to mailmen around the world.

The Metaphysics of Cake

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Can we ever truly know reality? I don’t think so. But fly in comfort my friend. Lean back and enjoy the thrust of those engines.

How To Win With Mom

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My mother’s serene and patient voice flew up the staircase once again “Megan, are you done feeling sorry for yourself?”

i've worn it like a trophy all day

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if i could i would leave/ my beating heart like flowers/ pumping blood upon your doorstep/ in gory testament/ to the way you make me feel.

Pain

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Everything I understand / is in danger.