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Dissecting

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skin is soft and too easily sliced away

Mirage

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the old once new me

Broadloom

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I have constructed this emotion with tinfoil and stilts. I wear the mask of a typewriter. I have roots in Minnesota. I have a glass hat and a junkyard monstrosity pregnant with parables.

Afton Mountain

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fog settles over the mountain laying a ghostly blue shroud

2-D CUCKOLDS IN TV SOAPS

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Tread acres and acres of aches

Dark

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Slowly, she eased me into my place where I melted into the dark seat

LIES

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When I was nine years old, I fell through the rotting boards that covered my grandmother's cesspool and nearly drowned.

Pacific

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this orient tide come occident: this roll of wreck and reckoned eyes that fathomless are found or made to find her keep within the tight shut shell in soundings deeper than the plumblined soul these western waves gone east: these…

Notes to the Dead

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The kind of poem poets write and read. I mean, hey I was feelin’ it HARD at 3:24 am, and this is what spilled out.

And then we... Part 2

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The way I figure it, mom wasn't worth a shit. I'd cry when she hit me but she'd just keep pounding. When I was seven, she burned a hole in my back. It happened one day at the fair. We were walking around. She didn't have any money so all we could do was walk. I had…

Digging In The Darkness

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I dig with no light to guide the aim of my shovel but the stars peeking through the trees which are fuller now then when you went away.

I'm Still Here

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During the night and in the fog of halfsleep Ben shifted and felt the weight of Miranda gone from him, the bed empty. In the quiet of the house he thought he heard a footstep and the soft shutting of a door, and as his eyes searched the dark he…

After Appomattox

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The renegade states- Virginia, Georgia,/ Texas, and the rest- should have lost their names

In Season

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He saw in her something fierce and wild and gently led her to his open palm...

If I Was a Bum

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If I was a bum I’d risk everything For a drink or a smoke. I would beg and curse and steal If I was a bum. If I was a bum I would cuss out the Pope. I would not vote for anyone Because I would know truly They’d be telling gross lies.

Politicouscous II

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In which era was it not a scary world?/ Last century, the perils were both red and yellow/ after Jerry was undone. Now, they’re brown/ and cross, without respect, the Rio Grande

THE TIDE OF LIFE

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It was an autumn day, late in the afternoon, a Tuesday, when the last murderer died. There was no official announcement. Indeed, she and her crime had been forgotten. Pancreatitis, her cause of death. Quite treatable, the cancer. Nothing could be done for the gene that…

Posy

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I hear you calling me, as if through water spilled within a glass--

No Rocks On This End

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Take a flying leap?Mother would never agreeSo away from the campground we sneakTo show the boy where I was a boySummer day shirtless with swimsuits onOne hundred degrees walking through the treesThe season early with winter runoffWater here still seventy feet deepHoping the…

Cold, Cold Night

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I thought I heard Follow your heart On the cold, cold Night of the soul I thought I heard Follow your heart, follow your heart On this coldest night Of the soul Leaves on fire, leaves on fire They told me look Into the flames To

THE PERFECT KIND OF HAPPY

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I think of particles exploding, coming back together like some physics experiment I don’t know the name for. “Large Hadron Collider,” you say. But that’s not what I mean.

Morning Night (2,3,4)

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Monday MorningI wake slowly. My breath still escapes me. He's asleep on the sofa, legs hanging, hand hanging, lips hanging, a river of saliva somewhere. He tries to be the one that's okay when I'm not, but really he's just as bloody as I am. I wait til he starts to…

Identity

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We’re forty-three.

sediment

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I'm re-invented on Main St. every single day.

Addicts

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Popular wisdom would have it that heroin addicts are some kind of cross between vampire menace and low-rent cartoon.

four haiku

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years later ghosts enter. . . .

Her Return

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She approached him submissively, face down, eyes hidden by hair that moved with every shift of the current.

fields of gold

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The son stood on the porch with his grip packed. "I'm off to mine me a fortune a gold, Daddy." "Boy, there's a fortune in gold right here," said the father, indicating the ripe wheat, glowing in early morning sun. The kid slumped. "Pop, you turn over a rock there,…

only connect

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lift my love and be lifted

Truck, Medusa’s Hair Aflame, Young Boy Watches

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Air. But fire against the air. An interruption in the blue sky otherwise. Painted without a spread blemish or problem. Now there is a problem. I am roused from sleep. Sister says, Look. Look. Jacob wake up. What? A truck is on fire. What is? A…