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Poetry Hour at the Regional House of Pancakes

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The waitress appears and Fred gives her a big smile and th3 once over. It's no wonder he's had so many women in his life while I've . . . uh . . . read a lot of books.

The Oxymoronic Life of a Nearly Dead Woman

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I could have a minor stroke.

Domestic Tragedy

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We never meant to gain their confidence only to outgrow them. They were once our best friends, the ones who listened, the ones who understood or sat across from us so we could see them nod. They leaned…

Denouement

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No one has the right/ to script how someone dies.

Urban Skunks

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Urban skunks want to visit your neighborhood and be bold in your neighborhood.

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.

I Thought

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I thought we ended things a long time ago

SEIZE

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“You're right by the mall, the cultural district, and just a few minutes from downtown,” the realtor smiled. “And it's on a bus line?” the wife asked. “Yes it…

If You Trace Even One of My Words

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with a finger I will (let you) know. If you mean even just one given look at the moon I will know that, too. If you peel off one lonely star and put that shining shell in your watch pocket for later or to skip across your sad …

Sappho

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Two Roman busts have come down to us, both copies of supposed earlier Greek originals, from the 4th. century BC.

Deciding to Leave

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...Yet today, I fear / ordinary names for fantastic objects: Sex, Love, Mind.

One Amber Down, Two to Go

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I am brave, I am sexy, I am strong

Why I Gave Up on Math and Began My Big Fat Writing Career

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I’d met this crowd of drunken poets from San Francisco Even though this was smack dab in the middle of winter Smack dab in the middle of the flattened Illinois plains Why they all left San Francisco I’ll never completely understand But there we we

Florida Dreams of Peru

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Kiln dried mummies, landscape of once were alpacas. / Now all the wool is farmed in Alva

Beating

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Season's felicitations!

The Ones Who Are Left Behind

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The women, I think, Handle it better than The men. The men just stare Straight ahead Vacantly Hollow-eyed Lonely. The women more Fulfilled by their lives, Having always Expressed their love. The men, Not so much. And find

Saturday Matinee, Circa 1961

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We are impressed and cheer them on/ in their struggle against the wild/ and unkempt ravages of nature

Fun With Death at the Funeral Directors Convention

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“How about licensed-character theme funerals for kids who die young?” I asked, broaching a sensitive subject. “Do you think they’re”–I hesitated–”a money maker?”

Now

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I'm looking for the perfect/passage, a safe, sound/jettison to now.

Falling Rocks in Equal Doses

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Not sure I remember what's important, but I remember you. That's the whole problem I think. You're a drain where all my words wind up going down. All of them get lost inside of you. Eventually. And I'm left with nothing to say. Because all my words are…

Happiness

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Sometimes the universe is a coin flipping so fast it’s hard to see which side is polished and shiny.

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…

from Tsalmaveth

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Anastomose my veins to / yours so we may / share // a dream pooled between us

Waiting for Lunch

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The banality of his own state of boredom, a luxury to be satiated with violence, to hack with an axe the exposed neck of his friend.

Ink on Paper

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Waves like lovers gather and crest, crash into White uncertainty.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 64

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Mulvihill suspected, but could not prove, that the connection to all three murders and the three men was a painting

Where I Sit Here Clad in Armour by the Stars

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Where I sit here clad in armour by the stars, I do not think of you; those thoughts are over. Beneath the silver here is light enough, To make me ponder by a lighter way. Beyond the bronze óf our sun and the others That haply rein the…

He's All Man--And He's All Mine

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My man’s got a habit that’s kinda strange. I’ve got a feeling he’s never gonna change. Whenever I take a trip, when I git back, my underwear’s ripped.

To the Palace

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Less than a week ago, I was still a republican. It’s strange what an invitation for a job interview at the Palace does with your principles. I’m especially nervous because the interview’s late in the afternoon. I could go to the be

Despite the Spring

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The scarred heart pumps its viscous blood.