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Unconfirmed Revelation Vouchsafed by Paris

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Poets die every day but are seldom in position to put the experience to literary merit.

Yearning

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He’d've been up there belting out the hymns then bickering with the vicar after.

Cookies

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What was it about the aged and cookies? Here was another one that relished them. Sebastian's grandmother was a specialist. People on the outside thought she was a bird enthusiast. Grandma could be seen refilling the bird feeders at all hours. After the morning…

Oed is Dead

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I COULD always sleep. Go "home" now and sleep. My body and my fetus—who complain of this torture—would appreciate sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have to try to wake.

Carmen Rental

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But in 1991 Carmen developed a heroin habit and was forced to sell her powder blue, convertible Mercedes 500SL...

running, returning

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The broken car horn wailed for 40 days and 40 nights.

The Cheerleader

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He sat behind her in Honors English, each day studying everything about her.......

last attempt at innocence

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When we were leaving to go to the ice rink, Lynda surprised all of us by saying she wanted to come along. She slid all the way over in the front seat to be next to me, while one of my buddies, Miller, who had his eye on her himself, slid into the passen

In the Sequence of Events

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Eroica sprawled among/ the horns and violins

black

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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…

Stealing From A Corpse

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He kept one scarf. It was the scarf that she would tie around his eyes to play with him, long, until he was in his teens. A silly game that made her happy and he squirmed with delight until he got too old. She did not want him to see her, only to know if

Writing 101

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looked briefly – glanced shouted loudly – yelled fell down – fell

Elegy for the Sun

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When winter comes again…

What Momma Draws on Windows

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...the woman of the sun, twelve stars around her head, the moon at her feet.

Unfinished Journal Entries (which only goes to prove just how unprofessionally untutored I am)

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I could tell you right nowwhat I'm thinking aboutbut that would not be sacrificeenough. Takes all kinds, and youonly listen when it'ssomething you think is instantlyoverpowering. I swear, there's always something not quiteright with you. There's a silly left…

The American Dream: An Update

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Last time I saw the American Dream was Tuesday, down at the Unemployment Office. He was looking pretty worn out, as if being unemployed for over a year was finally getting to him.

The Dead in Paris, Parts 5 and 6

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The virgins smirk / // We got medieval on their asses

gathering

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the moon tops the monolith

Going Along for the Ride

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You could hear her coming from a long way off like she kept trying to catch her breath, like she was getting the fun rattled out of her bones. But it was laughter, always laughter that kept on filling up her belly from the inside and she was

Eternally Shall Be the Leaves I Rest

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All greatest things are tokens of themselves: They need no tongues to say why they are so, To say why suns surpass historic gulfs Or why the rain sheds more tears than the snow: Yet man must strive to paint what falls beneath The glance…

Thanksgiving, 2018

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The cornbread for dressing cools./ The cranberries boil with one cup each/ of sugar and water. The aromas are nice

Angels and Inspiration

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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

living in the flames

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After it is over, I go out into the world, to the café. The flower sellers are setting up their booth outside the glass doors. Classical guitar over the speakers. A soft rain falling. Heads bowed, reading the news. Coffee, croissants, cappuccino. This g

The Giver and The Gone

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They were once a crown,of some living stag -- not quite old,not quite young: now bone. Something at the cusp of its age. Here they stand, given by a loved friendon a place in my home; smelling, whenI get very close, of time. They are shaped like small…

Sometimes everything is depthless.

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There is some debate about what kind of twins they are. It’s a fissure between aesthetics and science.

Why?

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A perennial question.

And So Wit Begins...

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My writing career began with sitting around the tree eating Christmas presents.

The Further Chronicles of Mars (tribute to Ray Bradbury)

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And in the dark caves a new secret, hidden from flyby probes and the imagination of men. In these new caves, names for the loved ones, Bradbury, Clarke, Rover

Fate

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decline the prof­fered hand

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.