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Delicate

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I'm not plagued with high levels. Must be all the raking I do. My pubes look as lush as my hair, so fire isn't even a concern. Maybe heat exhaustion is.This might be a poem,My oceans aren't small.

Dinosaur

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All of the students’ eyes were fixed on him, and now Nelson was embarrassed. It’s not that he didn’t want to pay attention. He already knew the answer to this book. But he wouldn’t dare tell the rest of the class or Mrs. Edwards.

civilization

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pain and anger

Letter to Garrison Keillor

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Hilda Raz lost a daughter. Her son gained a persona, backed by biological components. I was impressed by his male-pattern baldness. A biological genius. And yet, I was reduced and in the elevator mentioned crying about it.

The Blistering Continent

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Marvin and first had met four years ago on an iron train peeling through the seething Asian night on rails between Bangkok and Chiang Mai city...

I Was Supposed to Write This

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I was supposed to write a history of the old world and expose the selfish ones who use their best kept love for evil against the good little witches of childhood, but it made no sense to me to go after them in that obvious a way. They…

Classic

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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.…

Watching the Clock

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Benjamin did everything by the clock. He ate when the little hand pointed to five and the big hand pointed to six. He danced when the little hand pointed to three and the big hand pointed to seven. He slept when they both hit twelve.To be more precise, he did everything…

Elegy on a country rooftop

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Willa knows why Jimmy reached for the thirty ought six Chambered a round With three more clinking in his pants pocket And took to the roof

My nose

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When I was 14 I accidentally heard a woman saying behind my back

Falling from Grace

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Royce fell from Grace and landed in the fountain surrounding her pedestal. It wasn't the first time Royce had climbed the statue. It was the first time he'd been sober.

Pahk Your Kahma in Hahvahd Yahd

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“Namaste,” I say as I hand the guy his ticket. “The divinity within me salutes the divinity within you. Have a nice freaking day.”

Bonsai

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Adam, now Eve-less, stood before his most exquisite Bonsai, wallowing in the miseries of youth.Seth Gall has had work published in China, Canada, and the U.S. His work has appeared in Word Riot, SmokeLong Quarterly, and Nanoism. He is S.H. Gall in decomP…

One-Sided Conversation

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[I STILL CAN'T GET THE "CENTERING" FORMAT THINGEE — WHAT? "JUSTIFY CENTER"? THAT'S WHAT IT'S CALLED? YEAH — THAT ONE! TO WORK! WHAT THE—]

Dark Matter

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The darkness isn’t evil but invisible/ in the otherwise excellent light of day

Quel Bordel

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Our friend, M. Dieu-Juste partnered in a used car business with a Vietnamese mechanic, Mr. Tran. Cars however, were not their only venture.

Here, You Are Alive

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He doesn't tell her that he is married, and that his five year old daughter who is living at your house has a mother back in that same city

My Plumber

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It sounds so good.

Straps

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high school football players who'd been hit wrong and instantly become quadriplegics

From the Cradle

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Loss and awakening are irrevocable. Love and grief are one.

Portrait without Birds

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so Tippi has no interest

Winter Queen

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Love is

picture (im)perfect

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not

Siren

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There it it again, that noise. That low hum that I know so well now, spinning, gaining momentum in my head, like a cyclist in a velodrome, until its steadiness and roundness becomes sharp, painful, cutting like glass.

Freedom

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His senses were heightened. The scratching on the table with his finger nails, intense nervousness, the noise magnified every second, the ball point pen was piercing into his sweaty palm.

Ares Considers a Career Change

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Barbarians and savages wore feathers/ or frightful face paint or skin tones// one could recognize and aim for/ with weapons one could feel

Palinode for a Love That Failed

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Palinode: A poem written to retract something said in a prior poem.

The Sadness of Being On Line and (Bonus Extra!) The Driver

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He had to get over the short bridge

The Young Hate the Old

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The old hate the young. Robe exposed monks do not Hate mosquitoes. It is one. It is one hand. It is on. Mountains don't hate sky. The rich hate the poor. The poor hate the rich. The parade of scholars hate the …

Tragedy and Wreck

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By the time the third car disappeared, Bud had noticed sudden lulls in the breeze, rain microbursts from otherwise blue skies, cold humid calms that trailed him around the junk.