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Imagine this: One day you are walking down the street (wearing your protective mask, of course, the cloth one you bought the other day because you liked the color and design) when, by chance, you happen upon a strange sight.
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They wink at me as if to share/
a cosmic joke whose punch line’s still/
a couple dozen light years out
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"Did you see any action?" I ask, hoping for a story. He points to a scar ripping through the chevron on his left arm but says nothing.
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gods aren’t going to help you son
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I had put the child's wagon, which had been red once, back together again. “Honey”, I said, “I found out the garbagemen will pick up concrete this month.” So, I put…
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I will not leave the boat.
The sea has left you.
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Other pathways are more satisfactory. They are more closely attuned to music of the other world. Even so, the heat eventually burns them up.
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If I had slept a little longer, I/
would not have seen this rarity at all.
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Soul? Who's got soul? That nothingness that holds us together, between the spaces, in and out of the cracks in our minds and bodies. The soul weighs something, you know. It's been proven. Some guy did a study where he weighed people before and after death, and they weighed…
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The new poetry
comes in shining
metal boxes
covered in glass
so you can peer in.
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“It's not him,” Kelly says. “I think it might be,” says her Mom. The three of us are sitting on the long sofa facing the wall which is one …
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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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I keep the book when the lessons are done, go through the pages Momma skipped over...
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there was the place where the large turtles had their eggs, and it was always a concern because everyone wanted the new turtles to make it back to the sea but the electric lights of high wattage along with sounds from the roadways beyond were in one…
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“C'mon Billy, don't be s-s-s-s-scared.' said the voice coming from under the bed. Billy looked over the side and saw a pale white, bony right hand with it's forefinger beckoning him protruding out from below. The nails were yellowed and cracked. And long. Very, very…
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Sally knows the situation: if your name's on the list you can't come in. If they try to walk past her, swipe their card on the electronic barrier's scanner, instead of a short benevolent bleep and the gate sliding open, it will fail. The hapless individua
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He can’t enlarge the rock—/
can only find its safest distance
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He peels the garlic while I stir the lentils; he chops the cilantro while I peel kale leaf from stem. Also, the rings. Also, no one is going anywhere.
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in that time people had gone away and i waited in the inside and looked out on balconies. the ending of the dusk was coming and the details of the railings and brick, the tree branches holding purple plums, the stacked railway ties and a thousand other details became…
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Your father's remembrance and memorial would be inappropriate for me to attend. never mind the truth the searing…
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In the tumbled-down now there's too much material, culled from pretty boys that don't notice me and tattooed ones that do, and I'm certain there's at least one dreamer soaking eyes into me who knows all the twisted lyrics invoking pretty little horses.
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I tell people that we leave out food for the creatures to appease the skunk gods.
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my time there was not one afternoon not / one river not one tunnel not one falling
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" No honest poet can ever feel quite sure of the permanent value of what he has written: he may have wasted his time and messed up his life for nothing."--T.S. EliotI think, okay now I know, the poem's starting to wear off. But I'm alive, at least…
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Last week I heard that there is a new horror movie out about Abe Lincoln, with the plot of the film involving the tallest of presidents hunting down vampire bats with his axe while suspending habeas corpus, writing lame speeches about the freedom of man, restoring the…
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“Don’t you think you should tie a tourniquet or something?” she asked as I bled profusely from the points where Jesus was wounded during his crucifixion.
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The machines of her perception/
tuned themselves to frequencies//
that peeled her skin and fatty tissue
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I don't have to show you how to fly. I don't even know who you are still possibly trying to be in this crazy grounded world. But the words make us family. I can't help that or what you might do with that public tweet tweet…
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Goodbye comes in stages. At first you recognize that you will “miss” someone when they are gone. Then you have to accept the fact that they are leaving. And finally accept the fact that they are gone; and not particularly in that order. If only it
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We walk with our heads down, maybe 15 of us, moving under a sun that has grown to encompass everything. Everything is in hues of orange and red like a bloody eyeball on fire.
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