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Black Night Takes Bite

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The Black night reached under his shiny silk jacket And touched the steamy leather of his holster.

SNIPS & SNAILS & PUPPY-DOG TAILS IS THE *LEAST* OF IT! by Ranting Bitch in a Cold, Cold World

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S.Hallow

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Andy writes porn.

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.

Living for You

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I’d say something I didn’t mean, then she’d say something she didn’t mean, and on and on until one of us came up dry and would be forced to—take exception to something the other had said, to take it seriously.

Stinger: a Novel

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Lipstick on the bolt, she told herself, if it's no good in the slot anymore.

Art exploits

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Against// the mysteries and the dark/ it illuminates and shapes

War Stories

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I told about the time during the early part of WW II when I shook hands with a member of the Flying Tigers. He was home on leave, and he stopped by to see my dad, who had been his scout master.

The Polish Worker

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... and that’s the story of the Polish worker who looks like van Gogh.

OUR NEXT BREAK

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You welcome the new girl by putting a message on her back. I breathe harder until she pops or until you ask me what I’ve seen or until you see my hand turn into a fist.

Alone Before Surgery

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I spat in the toilet.

two hendecasyllabic verse notes for Mr. S.

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mind heart soul will blood sweat tears muscle, and bone,/and then always something else—not more, just else . . .

Kilkenny

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Green hands wave in freezing water.

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…

Silly Old Man Acting the Young Fool

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The green on your shoulder Is worth all their papery property taxes And then some. They cash in every friendship As if it were nothing more than a Ripened apple for pie. Get rid of The thing before it begins to Rot into some…

My Back Hurts

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

My Daughter Belongs In a Mental Home

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[............................................................................................................................................................................................................................................................]

here, winter

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a day so brittle

Blue Dresses

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It makes me feel like a dirty old man: adorning Celia, Making an offering of my blue dresses, adorning Celia.

our bodies were melting into each other

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I had a dream about you once. I don't know if I told you about it already or not. (If I did, I apologize.) I'm never quite sure who you're writing about in some of your stories (maybe a composite of everyone?) but I did hold you one more time. In my dream

The patient

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He switched off the light. His wife was breathing softly. At her bedside he told her of her friends the roses, of the pretty carnation brooch he had pinned on her silk scarf, of her coquettish hat which fitted her so well. Small, simple and bright memories the heavy night…

What happens when you listen too much

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It's definitely not her pretty face that made him smile so quirkily when she returned in the evening.

Blank Checks

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Then he said something that really made sense, said he kept a blank check in his back pocket...

Mural, Mosaic, and Satori

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He thought of natural violence that had to do with the wind and the Atlantic Ocean. He thought of the Gulf Stream, that important title, that someone had shown him on a map and explained about in detail.

four haiku

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years later ghosts enter. . . .

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.

Boys With Antlers, Girls With Wings

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Now that you can go to a body shop and get nearly any mod you can imagine printed and attached in about an hour, every cracker-ass redneck is sporting a twelve-point rack...

Tierra del Fuego

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my time there was not one afternoon not / one river not one tunnel not one falling

Event Particle

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She is a manifold of temporal flows.

Civilization Marches On

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The redwood trees were taller than dreams