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This is the poem you leave behind that you die in the middle of.
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Orchids strewn over the floor...
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it is heavier than it looks with edges smoothed by the passage of time
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Reams of saggy bunting intersect the streets.
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Charley calls to say he hasn't heard from me. The blinds are gone, so I take a lipstick off the living room table and draw a circle around his head. I make a half-circle for his gut, a squiggle for the telephone cord. He can come over, he says, just to …
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An excited state
with undiscovered borders, the almost space -
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1350 4 3
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Skulk like a lovespun spider in a record store corner
on the orange formica subway car
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Tuesday morning while Frank was in Dr. Jawarski’s office, Michiko was sitting in the waiting room of a gynecologist’s office.
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Once, in the past or future, but definitely not in the present, I worked as a transportation minister for a friendly dictator, whose name was neither Hitler, nor Stalin, nor Kim Jong-Un, but whose mustache was toothbrush, whose smile was sardonic to the p
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They can’t help
Seeing a child even there
In the crude brushstrokes.
They say it is me.
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The bad optical, crossed or dead or lazy or stray
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Lungs bursting in the alleyways
trying to keep with the beat.
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1350 1 1
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Adam hitched his dinosaur to a covered wagon. He drove the Virgin Mary to the Faire. Shiva rode behind them in a silver limousine combing out his long and flowing hair.
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1349 0 0
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Azure understood now. She felt it there as she remembered what she told Sora after her ordeal with the domed creature.
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2. Travel To Somewhere Fascinating, Even In Your Own Back Yard!
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1. They Don't Know When To Fold 'Em Gambling junkies are lit on losing their ass and almost can't wait to unload their money, and then reel on home and bounce off the walls or whatever. For these guys, losing's the jackpot, and deep in the hole for…
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this elegant silver wrench/
which from the opposite side/
becomes a golden Phillips-head
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It's a funny thing, watching a Snowman shiver
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the poems/
we never got to will remain,
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1349 2 1
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Okay, I’ll admit it, the earth was shaken on the world's underside, when you left for California. And I sometimes slept on the shores of Lake Michigan and Fox River for your tremendous thousand years’ charisma. To say I cried out in pain would be lettin
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NO ONE CAN BE A BASTARD FOREVER
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He turned metal chains to rubber with the force of his mind. He prepared tacos for the paperboy.
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Granddad listened to Elvis and then he would talk more or less the entire night. “Mystery Train” was Sam Phillips' song. Then Presley recorded it, but did it up different, sounded much faster so you could feel your hair blow back a bit. …
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For the camera
she smiles
otherwise not
and
only when she is
standing beside him
But for the camera?
for the crowd
for posterity
yes
For their children
for the future?
yes, again yes
a thousand times
until her face
be
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In the zone of forgotten things, everything moves through a weak gravitational field
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Hope is the thing playing checkers
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1349 0 0
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Writing books is like raising children. You do your best, nurture them, discipline them, coddle them, feed them, patch up their injuries, sing to them, try to sell them, but no matter what you do, they are what they are.
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1349 0 1
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There's no sky like that
with twisting clouds shot up into by cypress
trees that are so like dark green flames
leaping out of the earth as if a dark green
oily pool were on fire underground,
and this was all that could escape, was
its essence.
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My dumb body
that does not speak
still
cried out your name
last night.
Did you hear it,
maybe
in your sleep?
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