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Exhumation

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the poems/ we never got to will remain,

New White Blouses

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always thought you'd show up with a good friendly grin, your heart full of gnosis and the rest of you dressed in denim or terrene hues,back from across the world to honor our sacrosanct thing maybe it would be in the wind chiseled afternoon,or the dusk by tables…

End of the Cloud

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Somewhere between the bleating of sheep And the laying of eggs Comes the licking of frosting And the eating of the cake We’re not young enough To know everything anymore And you may think there’s no rush But I know this There’s a limit t

Tumultuous Cracker

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The whole scene smells like paranoia.

Ghost Story

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They come to wipe themselves from my memory, but that, of course, is impossible. In this place, we are bound together, the long line of men who have killed me, and I.

Refugees

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Somebody left CNN on all night long until the news cycle flipped, crashed and burned in its own ruins

An Uneventful Night in an Italian Hospital

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The voice is back! That voice, like milk and honey, like mother, like the school nurse who bandaged my scraped knee.

Ohio Man Charged with Drunken Driving on Motorized Barstool

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A man in Watchupecka, OH, was charged Wednesday night with drunken driving in heavy traffic in downtown Watchupecka when he failed to stop for a red light.

Collect Enough Fragments, You've Got Yourself a Poem

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I. The sun's corona. Empty boxes near the firehouse. Red birth. A bird's lost wing. II. The bitterness of littleness. Apples in a pile.Early love.A spider, swinging. III. A father's harshness.Twelve bills unpaid. Leaves in a crevice. A dream…

How Zin Prepares for Early Winter While Saint Bernards Cause Major Traffic Jams along East Houston

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She sings off-key while her married lover shadow-boxes his one-dimensional and split-off selves.

Jazz Torn

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Lungs bursting in the alleyways trying to keep with the beat.

Cause of Death

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“You sure?” He nods. “Maybe it was pneuomonoultramicroscopicsilicovolcanoconiosis.” Flash of a smile, sobbing laughter, like an abandoned seal.

We Should All Have One Great Love

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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?

The Exiled Realm

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destinies bring me to a damned desert

The Whole Deal with the 'Willamette's Weak-Links'

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[My baloney has a first name: it's Oh, Ess, Cee, Ay -- shit! I forget the rest! Can we start over?]

The Incident

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There are some I don’t recognize. My gaze lingers for a second. It’s bad business this.

Deliberate Music

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My emulations always fail. At heart,/ I don’t want bougainvillea nor blushing pilgrims

Last Stop

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So we stayed on the train admiring the time.

Moai

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Rain and wind and the pecking of birds

Anonymous Gamblers

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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…

our ragged wits, ragged minds

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Our ragged wits, ragged minds, after acting out all, imitating all honey-like tunes, air song, excellence of song, true flower of the world. So the sun has some of its honey wintered away, to bring it into contact with such a human voice as yours.

the girl who was my suicide

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last night a girl came to me in the shape of my suicide.

The Fourth Prague Defenestration: 16

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I still wake up with a start to this day, remembering the sound of that squish. And the cheer from above of all the brutes hanging out the open castle window. And of course the roar of approval and delight from the hordes of Chinese, Russian, and Germ

For all we know, we'll never meet again...

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Jillian speeds across the stone wall, the hem of her dress flaps violently behind her. Sometimes she stands with her back fully erect letting perpetual motion guide her down a bend with her sun blonde locks brightening the dreary sky, or she lurches her

The Human Phenom Project

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I sat at the vast graveyard of broken hearts on the mending fence of wonderment unsealing the silence of the wounds I began to put the pieces together like a puzzle against forgetting

Sunday in Dogpatch, circa 1990

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Inspired by the photographic work of Susan Lipper. Grapevine series, 1988-92. http://susanlipper.com/gv_23.html

Termite ‘Grace’: #769

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‘Grace’ was eliminated sometime in year b.s. (Before Seat) 12, for bottlenecking Productivity and holding back Progress.

A Love Letter To The Glasgow Transport System

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Skulk like a lovespun spider in a record store corner on the orange formica subway car

The Zone of Forgotten Things

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In the zone of forgotten things, everything moves through a weak gravitational field

Edward Ogle the fourth

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Charted stars by the dozens / with a side of frizzle onions / dawn showers us with glitter.