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specter in transit

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at the front of the bus/ sways a white-veiled woman:/ gnarled hands upon/ a bag of palms,

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,

Leda, After the Swan

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I do not jerk up to sirens birds doorbell shouts hello hello through the letterbox hello

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.

Kwaazy Wabbit

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destroy the day rip up the track jump in the water eat nothing but bugs

here, winter

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a day so brittle

Shirley Ave.

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What can I offer you, White Moon?This full night lays black before your stoic assent—and Ibreathe my final breath, frantic—for you. I wait, damned,a bestial lover in the broken dark of the variety market, whisperinga word of forgiveness to an empty window. I…

Convenience

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I drove all night, but there weren’t nothing Roy Orbison about it. I’d been driving and around lunchtime I just thought I might stop by Shona’s place.

The Palisades

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These are not the caffeinated men of barbaric lore.

Give Me Back My Albert Hall

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“Now, “Pour Some Sugar on Me” is a hit of the eighties.”

Linda Vs. Sound

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Normally, after her shift, Linda would make herself a latte, untie her apron, and study at one of the tables. That evening, however, KEXP kept playing songs with grating guitar riffs, and loud laughers were everywhere. She chugged her coffee, burning her tongue. Then, she…

Violet Hour

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“My name is Violet,” I add. I am trying to stop lying. Going without cigarettes has been easier.

The Room of Doors

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"Which way ought we to go from here," he asked. She smiled again, "that all depends on where we want to get to." He nodded but didn't laugh so she sighed and strolled around the room, tuning and looking and considering her options.

Dust to Dust

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He began to chop the powdery substance and separate it into segments.

Epithalamion

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They talk but they don’t really / talk

Cat crunch

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I barely scraped the sleep out of my eyes when I heard the shrill crying from outside the kitchen window, and I recalled one of the many reasons cats can't be trusted. You see, they're evolutionarily wired to imitate the sound of a crying human baby, so when they…

Christmas Presents

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There’s something Dad’s been telling us that I don’t think is true

The Semaphore of Civilization

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We're alone and besieged / by badness.

Full Moon

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Creatures of the dark don’t follow daylight savings

Precipitants

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

Adaptation

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At night, we’d sleep in our usual spots on the edge of the bed - Becca on the left, me on the right with Hanna in the middle as before the accident.

The Fourth Prague Defenestration: 8

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“Okay,” Boris said, wiping his mouth, “ready to go see these paintings by Lenin? We go now.” “Where are these paintings exactly?” Ellen of Troy (NY) asked. I didn’t mention which Troy she was from. “I have friend in Prague,” Vladimir said. “Has sh

No Ideas but in Things?

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Forgive the doctor/ his hypocrisy -

The New Lycanthropy

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Who remains after the aching night has departed into dawn and left us to week-old sleep

Citronella Socks

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a cat named email..

BEFORE WINTER

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The night before, his dad had stumbled in drunk and beat his mother. John had covered his ears with his pillow to block out their screams.

Something about that boy

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There was something about the boy that made me uneasy. Maybe it was the reverse widow's peak on his forehead or the way he wiped away his snot with the back of his hand. It could have been his red flannel shirt that reminded me of the hillbillies from the mountain…

exile on and off the road

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had I gotten home without knowing it? well . . .

architecture

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you look like the insides of my cheeks chewed.

Credenza

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Now the house is empty of romance except a potted flowering plant from my mother for Valentine's Day. No man has set foot in my museum since I moved here. One man has set foot. The owner's brother to see about the gasket under the toilet. The Comcast installers, twice. The…