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It's the New Age of Bullshit

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They’re young and haughty. 27’s still a long ways off. They read about the famous, not the dead. Dusty dragonflies will not land upon them, and they are really only in love with the dishwasher. Now there’s a problem. Poetry is dead,

Fossil Beach

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hiking to Fossil Beach

Seance

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communication/ with the dead

Civilization Marches On

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The redwood trees were taller than dreams

My Back Hurts

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There’s a room Full of white And it smells Like bleach and Iron

Love-sad

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Then there she is, and she makes me love-sad; it's a vehement, absolute, hard love-sad no one else needs to understand, though they can see; it's an emotion so concrete it's felt from the chest, not from a tenuous concept called heart.

Joint Custody – The Second Coming

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A little boy sits at the table. He hears a knock at the door.“Mo-om!” the boy calls out. “Door!”His mother comes from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her clothing.“Jesus!” she says. “Would it kill you to answer the…

The Madness of Mass Dance

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Outbreaks of mass communal dancing—sometimes referred to as “choreomania”—occurred in Europe with some frequency in Europe between the 14th and the 18th centuries.

Chopsticks

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They’re coming now. Thousands of them. Black wings, antennas, spindly legs.

Why?

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A perennial question.

Citronella Socks

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a cat named email..

The Little Apartment

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In the end they talked a lot, shared what they could, both seemingly trying to rekindle something that was no longer hot, and yet they could not let go of each other. Year after year would prove that. Right then, just then, it seemed that the physical par

Five Poems

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First Fall in Love by Darryl PriceWhat the black lives matter peopleare saying is black lives matter, too.Just as much. What blue meanies aspeople are saying is blue mattersmore. I don't believe that and neithershould you. What the green lives matterpeople are saying is we…

The Light and the Likes of the Moon

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The moon was out. A bouncing ball but suspended. I shall never have a baby, she said. I am not prepared to go through that pain. Also, I for sure would not raise them up if I had them with religion, which is just so much superstition. I'll be a fellow this…

September 26, 2016

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whatever weaknesses you displayed// as empathetic human fellow traveler,/ your command of English survives you,// on into the last echoes of the human/ once we’re gone.

The Artist Wannabe

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Hot Weather

Retinue

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the view is breathtaking here.

The Eighth Wonder of the World

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She says, “He's like, the eighth wonder of the world.” She says this without irony, and this makes you feel embarrassed for her. The laughter in this small, smoky space is getting louder. You chew your chapped lips and put your…

Precipitants

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we’ll never win/ the ongoing battle with dirt.

Domestic Sketches

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The cats sniff at the small opening,/ one by one, in a furtive casualness./ They think the outside air is sweet

First Streetlight

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What I'm going to do is grab this eight-year-old fellow down the block, and declare him a candidate for this Presidential campaign. I'll be his campaign manager, and our whole message will be based on the First Streetlight platform. It's old school but very…

Tollund Man, one/breakfast, zero

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how enthralled might you be, or how much appalled,/plucked from a fresh dream that had just grown serene?

Five Million Yen: Chapter 11

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Ben was stuck between sweet essences and rancid Talmudic funk. It was going to be a long trip.

getting there

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Seems hot for a Thursday, doesn’t it?

The Treehouse

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I noticed Sean changed after his grounding. We no longer played night soldiers around the block, no longer biked to the creek to catch crayfish he'd crush with his boots. Sean stopped hunting lizards, stopped charging smaller kids toll to pass…

Filaments

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It's always dark when Cal and I arrive. We park under the bright sodium lamps, closest to the doors. The lights will probably be off by the time we return, unless the sensors miscue in the uncertain light of early morning. When that happens, the lights…

Elephant's Miracle

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"Already he is running and flying to the center of the world" - Mircea Eliade, about what a shaman is up to, under his mask.

The Rat, His Treadwheel

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The rat had been informed, assured, cajoled in order to gain his assent—duly lied to, in other words, by the researchers with not one tear of remorse, with no smudge or smear of conscience . . .

the long white cloud above my body

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Butter me up, moon lover. Remember, I was once your warm and hot goddess of flowers, washed to shore with the others you may have forgotten. Now the issue of the earth gets nearer, and we can see each other once again, if only in our dreams. Just be

Sushi's Night Out

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... she’d stolen her boyfriend away from her, leaving her with a goldfish and a cat. Oh, and a pillow and some lights, she added. And I can’t really see you, because I’m blind.