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TV Eye

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the world’s biggest poser fags

Five Million Yen: Chapter 29

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-Ben, you mean you could get whacked for a couple of paintings? -Well, Gabe, there's more to it than a couple of paintings, but my lips are sealed.

five shards of the ancient and the antique

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“Outis of Utopia” my found name! / I'll inscribe it soon as the tide goes out.

Love in the Nick of Time

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a dance in the moonlight

Long Night, Hard Night

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It had been a long night, a hard night. The sky had been filled with blackened clouds, patters of wind snapping and whipping like a pirate's flag hung at full mast. Rain beat…

deja not

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I haven't felt my soul leave my body

A Few Images Illuminating the Difficulty of Being a Young, Talentless Writer in Manila

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A ten-ton bus with ill-manners going slow

Killing Joy

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In certain sense most fractured in each part, the whole Resolves itself more central, but I sense no calm In the cyclone's eye, the forest of the soul, Where plants this eidolon of poisoned charm. This is the secret of the hurricanes, reaping Out from…

Five Million Yen: Chapter 28

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Ben watched Monique disappear into the first-class cabin. It didn’t seem likely that he would see her again after this flight.

Closed Letter to Management

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don’t ask me to set my goals./ I have none except safe air to breathe,/ a reliable roof,/ something aromatic in the oven.

Me and Frisco on the Road

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I don't think I minded so much watching the trucks hit him, one breaking his spine with a decisive snap, and the other finishing the job by splitting his skull. I don't think I minded watching as much as I did watching those two boys poking around at his

Chicken Human

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I was in a Chinese restaurant trying to read the menu when I realized Hunan was only 1 letter off of Human I thought it read Chicken Human This was just in a dream, so I ordered it It was delicious, but kind of salty Then someone at ano

Mr. Townsend Wakes Up

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Mr. Townsend is a normal guy. He's been on auto pilot a while. When he finally snaps out of it, he's surprised at what he finds.

Until Tomorrow But That's Just Some Other Time

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Roanne awoke on the livingroom couch with the usual willies dancing in stomp time inside her. She blinked, looked around. The room was a mess, with clothes strewn hither and yon on the floor and the chairs and TV. On the walls, rock stars,…

the cold envies whom?

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cold plunges its lethal chill spade/into the dirt before cold takes the earth/to ossify it stiff with ice/the semblance of cold the semblance of death/said only to be felt this side of the grave.

Heart of a Poet

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He sneezed Hit the wrong buttonDidn't mean to kill him,but he didHeld onto me then, cryingand could not stopI feel so awful, he sobbedHe was asking for mercyAnd I meant to say, "yes,I will spare your life,"but I hit the kill buttoninsteadIt was an accidentHoney, it's just a…

Summer, finito

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one season slips into another

Masquerade III

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. . . he's of mixed race. Along with European blood, he's got Mexican Indian and African blood. Here's the irony. He don't look nothing like a white European man but he thinks like one.

The Technicolour Hours

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The other night / I dreamt I was an astronaut

Ponchatoula Tulip

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You could call it love.

Tabula Rasa

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accidental ground/ for index-fingered figures

Wild turkey chase

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“Don’t ever call me that name, formal or informal, okay? Forget you heard it.”

Handicapping the Saints

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I've been a fan of hagiography—the lives of the saints—since first grade when Claude Dunham and I were asked to represent St. Stephen and St. Sebastian, two martyrs of the early church, in a tableau vivant of bored boys.

london walking (empty streets)

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st. paul is steeped in fog. mist and rain make the north side a grainy faded photograph, almost timeless.

How We Open Doors

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-- as if I had / only rung the rusted bell --

Tethered

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Handsome are the houses,effigies in synthetic stucco: prosperity divinedbehind parted walls. Behold the ersatz simplicityof the residential subdivision, contrived construction inline and line and line. …

The First Several Chapters of His Memoirs

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He went for long, quiet walks. These seemed to quell the seething rages swirling about him as he exhumed and reconstructed the truth of himself.

Robots in the Workplace

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A Boston company has created a humanoid robot named “Baxter” that performs manufacturing tasks and gets a confused look on its face when it needs something.

gravelortian part 18

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A poor boy scribbling

I fell in love with jackal face

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As we stood there, my hair slung over his shoulder like uncooked pizza dough, I updated my wish.