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Art Is Resilient

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Our revolutionaries Have evolved into gamekeepers

Hubris, Now Hollowed

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We laughed like lords and lunatics Our schematics stretched before us

Octopus

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Sometimes I think there's an octopus in my stomach. In the mornings it stretches and droops its lazy head to one side — It suctions it's tentacles to the walls of my belly and pulls them together forcing me To gag, and vomit what we didn't digest of the…

ALL THOSE YEARS

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Joseph and his little brother, Kevin, were there again. Kevin was too small to understand what had happened yet. He would usually just go off, running around the statues and playing with the wreaths; the last time they'd visited he climbed a tree and broke one of the…

Edward Ogle the Seventh

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Airwave candy lyrical brandy brass band singer.

Another Irresolute Essay on Lit and Crit

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. . . we agree that formal standards for identifying literary merit exist and are capable of being discerned, not merely of being ascribed. —but is this itself true?

getting there

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Seems hot for a Thursday, doesn’t it?

Untitled (from Postcards from a Railway Station)

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As the silence starts gashing I decide it's the moment to take all my thoughts for a walk; To a sound like a million lightbulbs shutting their fuses I resume my view, Across the sun-strobe streets with blind nightlamps; the safflower sun is lopped on its stalk …

The Turning

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A brief colorful season/ and then the fall as winds/ break the hold the leaves have

Trailer Park T'ai Chi Brings Wisdom of Orient to Midwest

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He adopts a stance known as Part the Wild Horse’s Mane but calls it a different name--the Part the Hair of the Skanky Barmaid for a Bleachjob position.

lucy, the ghost who liked it

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lucy had simply taken a kitchen knife and removed the outer layer, the layer of things people notice

The Day I Discovered, Followed The Night I Realised

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Nature is perfect... We can never learn that much

Abortion Mill

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She arranged to have an abortion at a doctor Greene’s office, who practiced out of a converted house on Solano Avenue on the north side of Berkeley. I took her there the day of the procedure. You couldn’t go to a regular hospital to have this kind of thi

Ambivalence

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She said it feels wrong. Too wet, she said. I snickered, she smacked.

Seance

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communication/ with the dead

Blow Me

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[BEEZLEBUB SAYS, "GO!"]

Men Go to Great Lengths to Woo Reclusive Poetess

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"‘Man-hater’ is such a harsh term,” she says. “I really like it.”

My Back Hurts

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

The Forgotten Children...

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His cheeks were extremely pink but the pink was not the shade usually associated with good health, it was the pink of Death.

eggs

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i ask you what i taste like and you say "not much."

Forevergrad

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The man was sitting at his makeshift kitchen table. He was forty-five years old. He wore his mortarboard with tassel whenever he left his home. Once inside either a reputable establishment or one generally considered less so, he was sure to take off his m

Too Far

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Standing there as you walked away from me that late March afternoon, in the park off Meridian Street, the spring tableau seemed

Desire

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The young monk rose early to jog, his appetites trailing like cats in heat.

what time is it really is it?

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. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .

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.

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…

Pageant Night

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All the baby monsters are being born on stage.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 12

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It is not rough like most grappa, but smooth like good whisky. It removes all edges, freezes the tongue and erases the memory.

Precipitants

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

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.