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Edward Ogle the Seventh

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Airwave candy lyrical brandy brass band singer.

How to Lose Control of Your Pencil

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Real hands

Crossing Over

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Joan's biospy showed the cancer had come back. Instead of preparing herself for chemo, she booked us plane tickets to the Galapagos. “Death can wait another ten days,” she said.

eve

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she lays there wrapped in his baseball sheets

how to kill a dragon dead (except)

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the worm was stabbed where two rivers branch:/who would slay was slain.

things to know about the people parked along the road that runs through Humboldt Park: part 1

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It was as if every wrong foisted upon his ancestors stirred up a war in him and he was charged with intending the canon at the living.

Prison

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I am trapped.

The House of Cézanne

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Is there anything more emphatic than an ovary?

Sarah Nell

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There are two, though, that stayed for more than just a little while: Marvin and Oscar. Marvin was married and that's all I have to say about that. Oscar wasn't and it seemed as though he wasn't planning on getting married either. What a petty man he was.

Tablecloth Dresses: Song

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I see you’re wearing your tablecloth top again your tablecloth dress to impress me and distress me with all your tablecloth positions for your luncheons on the grass with all your famous friends who found you on your ass Yes we can

The Search for Pastina Continues

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To assist you in recalling some of Episode One of - "A Poem by Jasmine Coriander-Semolina": My head lifted up slowly as I looked up through a gaussian blur of fragrant incense smoke and saw she was crying. She whispered that her daughter, Pastina, was last…

I Waited Too Long to Remember

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We're in a sedate forest next to a boisterous beach. The sky is sea green above the trees and forest green above Sinepuxent Bay. Chaste squirrels are keeping a lookout for bad-boy gulls. Kids on circus bikes ride out of the woods into their bathing suits. The…

the waitress

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she smiled

Motorized Elderly Armageddon

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Oldies are not goodies.

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…

Women of God

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I keep the book when the lessons are done, go through the pages Momma skipped over...

Old Eyes

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I passed the old man from upstairs now and then, usually on Saturdays.

Before the Divorce

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Me leaving is not the confirmation of all your fears. It is not. It's because of them.

gravelortian part 25

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I come up and out of the hole onto a village street in the middle of a parade celebrating the arachnid god.

Like There Was No Tomorrow

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And there on the street Were a bunch of frantic pigeons Picking over some discarded Chicken bones I mean they were really Going to town on them You know, frantic Like there was no tomorrow And then I saw it A real sign of progress

God

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I realize that to say, "I do not believe in God" is footsteps away from "I do not rely on God" and "God left me."

Licking Secrets Clean

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The mannequin’s blind eyes, open, green, serene, Look away from the cross, her hand Against our crotch, against Our suffering, our agony of being Alive and beating warm.

To the Folksinger Just Arrived

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Whisper salutations to your irises

Improvisation on a few lines by Mark Strand

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I am tripping on poetry. Purple ink drips from my eyes like ergot of rye.

Sailor & I

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We were born here. At the top of the stairs underneath a painting of basset hounds playing croquet. And a hallway closet filled with lost someones. And the police, three times a week, singing nursery rhymes while walking up to our door.

In The Place Between

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We played and had joy. As the seasons changed in that peripheral world, we did not feel it. We only saw the snow a bit, only felt the wind a bit, we were not really in it. We still kept ourselves busy. There was something that I did begin to notice. I cou

Smack

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They shoot up through the soles of their feet once the veins in their arms are all used up. They shoot up in their necks like the cows on the African Savannah

The Scrawny Dog Gospel

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Opportunity, says Webster, is a, "favorable juncture of circumstances." In my Oxford book of quotations, there are seven famous lines about opportunity. Seven – that’s it! There are twenty-seven regarding failure. Seems it's been easier for the great

Last Stop To Dream

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This time is different. The dream doesn’t continue with endless walking.

Grief Leaves the Room

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It leaves on a Saturday,suddenly, while you are raking leaves or taking out the trash.Those inevitable, boring things.You do not hear it go;it's been quiet before when it left certain rooms. It no longersleeps beside you, and you learnedlong ago that the bed was…