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On my second trip home from the University of Illinois down state in Urbana, it was during our break between semesters, I remember it was a particularly freezing cold and miserable January (1963.) I had a date with Lynda.
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i mean the perfect setting is great and all the right lighting very little the right music she says kings of leon i say broken social scene with nothing but time and a large bed with balled up sheets and us but i love early morning fluorescent bathroom light…
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My father is the kind of man to shout at you /
just because you took the wrong road /
at least the road that he’s not used to...
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You fall with your eyes closed because otherwise you wouldn't dare.
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She had covered her laughing mouth, trying to prevent him from seeing a storied past.
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Dancing at the pavilion leads to sex. A nectar builds up around the heart (damp curl of hair at the neck.) The heart does not know what it cannot have. It is dumb and does not know. But I, for one, hope that it never learns and becomes numb.
There i
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My memory is like tracks in the snow. My memory is cookie dough. My memory is dirty tube socks.
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Sometimes he would get up at night, go outside, and stand in the middle of their back yard.
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I turn the corner and come face to face with Ed, who's stark naked at the kitchen sink. He chugs a glass of hot tap water from a measuring cup and belches loudly. “Good morning,” he says, as he pisses in the sink. “I drink 6 cups of hot tap…
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People could disappear in the Pine Barrens and never be seen again. Either by their own choice or when someone didn’t want the body found. John Dance knew that was just a part of life you had to accept and couldn’t change.
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We are impressed and cheer them on/
in their struggle against the wild/
and unkempt ravages of nature
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Palinode: A poem written to retract something said in a prior poem.
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"..sneezing repeatedly into an obviously saturated cocktail napkin,.."
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"I love you.”“Night.”Back at the screen door she answers “What?” I stand under her nose and say “Box is out of juice.” Inside she sits me on the black and white polka-dotted sofa we make love around here and there.…
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"Too many people were presenting themselves in a false light on lunch dates,” she says. “The power ties on the men, the come-you-know-what-me pumps on the women–that’s not what married life is about.”
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The world follows me everywhere. I can’t get rid of it. I’m being stalked by a planet.
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Number the herd. Number/
the baskets after harvest./
Note the reappearance of the moon/
after its short absence.
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“I was thinking about the other night.” He said from the living room. She could hear his work boots scrape and creak across the old wood floors, and the sound of his weight landing on the couch, then the snap of the lighter as he lit the pipe and…
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This is Bop even if you think it doesn't sound like that.
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Musing on female beauty I came up with this: it makes my dick hard. And if that's a bit crude, well, hell, I'm dead. Want to sue me? Back when the clans were at one with the earth, circa goo-gobs of long years B.C., female beauty meant…
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Doreen takes Butchie’s hand, steadies it in the can opener, counts “One-two-three”–and slams the chrome handle down.
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You had autumn in your hair
I liked the way you sat at a table
And drank champagne
My past years have carried me
To sixteen countries
Christ, we have so much to share
Listen, I know how the other half lives
And we can’t live like that an
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I smell ham and biscuits
I ain't eatin' Triscuits
No more
No more, no more
Gonna get back on my Harley
With my mutt named Bisquick Charlie
I just ain't eatin’ Triscuits
No more, no more
And I heard you know the score
Yeah, I know you
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I hope my blonde down still beats in your heart, and the black crescent curved under, you will remember, and I would move toward your window where my own heart lay in a dish, with the thick valley lifting.
Remember, I crossed and uncrossed my legs f
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We huddle behind the bedroom door and hear the swish of dad's belt as he yanks it from the pant loops, our backsides clenched.
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As Zoë says, “You and your musician friends drink in industrial quantities.”
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like a hundred cracks of thunder / or my brain seizing up, going all floppy on me ...
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A door in the hallway, with 30E in brass letters glinting dully on its polished surface, lying sideways on the floor like a beacon.
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