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It all began with me. I was first and for many years, the only.
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Love is easy. Lazy. Fickle.
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I scrambled back a bit and found my feet after untangling them from my trekking poles. Really should have dropped those when this all started. The bear lunged at me with his teeth and I just barely dodged to the left to avoid getting something bitten of
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Megumi turned to the night sky. The moon was brighter than she ever saw. The argument got louder as her smile shrunk into sadness.
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Our Sun bites down on the eager yet pouting lips of the softly puffy looking moon, but a jealous & runny cloud interferes with this story line just long enough for a little bit of fun: a young dancing tree washes her gold and…
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The retina was burning, the liquid had dried up, and the veins bursting. My eyes bled. But I kept them open. The sound was like nails on glass, screeching endlessly. Coming close to me louder, harder, faster.
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before five/glancing down Academy Street/sloping west to where the tracks crossed/twisted tangled metal on wheels.
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each vertebra is a golden cavalier, brave in upright vigilance; stoic heroes.
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He almost died, but hasn’t been this much alive ever.
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I whispered, “I love you”
and then, “Goodbye”
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No one wanted to bear witness
to this grand emasculation
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Insterstice: Novelas Four Sonnets Since …
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“After your death is confirmed,” I assured him, “a hardcover first edition of your books, will sell for millions at auction in New York.
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Performed October 21-22, Gallery 263, Cambridge, Mass. Kathy-Ann Hart, the Hostess; Ryan Wenke, Ubu; Tyler Catanella, Alfred Jarry; the author--technician.
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the cocksucking of strategic death planning
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Mustard stings the corner of his lips. He swipes it away with a finger, and looks closer at the hot dog. The piece of meat is ripped open like a sliced finger stuck in a doughy bandage
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Believe me, I would run if I could, but there seems to be a low haze of molasses clinging to my ankles.
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J., W., and W.’s girlfriend were exploring the nature and mores of homosexual conduct by discussing whether W. would be willing to suck J.’s cock.
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Ours is but the very small effort being made here.But it's a good enough keeper for all of usto always remember off. All the tins thataren't really going to save usfrom starving, now are neatly arranged all around, justin case, stacked…
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Our trouble decided when the CUNY PhD student, a poet, cried out, “Racination!” during discussion of my poem.
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Thin slices of ruby tomato, red onion, and green peppers joined the bacchanal, wilting in the bliss of chile and cilantro raining down on them.
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I love the notion of uncertainty-/
which seems inherent/
at the level of particles-
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[...] A crimson post-it note/ illustrates the squiggle of a resting pulse wavering/
near the broken pencil leads and whorls of/soft wood which may be classed as evidence.
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Let us talk granola
and improvising
on the margins of
munchies and breakfast.
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1196 1 0
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Ben gagged after shot-gunning the scotch. He hiccupped and it came back up through his nose. He grabbed a napkin and caught most of a shot and a half of Whyte & MacKay as it poured out his nose.
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We write in darkness. We love
in alleys. We breathe into beige
paper bags. Anything to mollify
the confusion. Anything to simplify
the math.
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