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Zal’s first day on the job they had 16 customers. They took turns crying, “Bring out your dead!”
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we’ll never win/
the ongoing battle with dirt.
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"You are stuck in the past like the jiggling leather of that wrestler's skin."
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He showed me the knife, said it was his best friend. This knife is older than you, he said. Here, run your finger along its blade. Like this. He showed me how to do it.
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So, once, we were all like sitting around the kitchen table, and it was so kind of like an okay sort of day to begin with. We were all like a secret theater of strangers, a living children's secret circle, meeting right in…
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Lucy entered the open door next; she had been inside the cat litter house before: Brother Fran didn’t bother to cover turds he’d laid. He spoke of the outdoors: lizards he’d separated from their heads, world of work.
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She excelled at plowing forward. He excelled at staying in one place. Eventually the distances got too great and she put an ocean between them.
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Seamus’ hands are shaking now
that once were still as stalking cats.
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We construct what we want, from what has failed in the past. We thought this worked. The picture was buzzing for me and I tried to hold on. I went blindly forward.
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He’d've been up there belting out the hymns then bickering with the vicar after.
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He'd always considered it his bus.
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"It all began with a painting," I said. "Mostly blue. Acrylic. Naturalistic in a modern sense. She was stylized but recognizable, and her breasts were exposed. Everyone could see her disordered skirt. The painter was a fan of Herrick.
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I heard the patron yelling,
“Hey, man! That’s my cappuccino!”
when the young female snatched it and got away.
But the police cornered her a few blocks away,
licking the last bits of foam off her wiley whiskers.
That’s how they knew they had
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And the urban sprawl doesn’t hesitate. All around me, I taste the aftermath of bricks, dust and dirt, freshly laid concrete slabs.
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He can’t enlarge the rock—/
can only find its safest distance
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The last of the Kazan Tatar Khans. Each dome represents a severed head.
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Why go outside where the gutters /
are fraudulent and clogged with popularity?
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There’s an account of roasting inward, holding myself like a rock inflamed, my inward joy rotting my veins. How was I supposed to go on loving anything after you? Like a pigeon hated at home, awaiting your passionate kisses? Knowing how your classical k
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Her eyes creaked open in the misty morning sun seeping through my dusty window. From her facial expression, I could tell she thought I was watching her sleep, but really I had just woken up and coincidentally looked over at the exact moment she did. I decided against …
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my soul is black and it's deep like heartbreak and heavy as stone and as thick as ink and it is pressing on top of me like last nights one night stand like dead weight so that I can't lift my arms or spread my legs it feels like I am walking through mud but it's…
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Well, hello
hunger: what a sweet surprise.
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I didn't know what to do, really, but I had to do something. After all there was no one left to be the real bona fide hero to this story, except for me, the guy who wasn't any kind of a hero at all. I mean I could hardly move an inch, rolled…
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Uncles. Cousins. Enos. No matter how loosely a net is woven, eventually the strands come together again.
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[NOTE: PLEASE DEFER READING THIS UNTIL YOU'VE COMPLETED THE 'MONAD' (OR 'MILESTONE') YOU'VE NEEDED TO! THANKS! BE FOREWARNED!]
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It was then an angel was sent to provide assistance and guidance. After the first time, with the radio show, the woman could almost feel her presence. When she did not know what to do, or needed help or to encourage others, when her own will and words wer
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Better move ‘cause I hear them comin’ up the other side.
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