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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.

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 …

Love in the Nick of Time

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a dance in the moonlight

Resistance

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I can no longer conjure the sweetness of a plum

Error Bars

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Is death like standing in a room at night and turning off the lights? You would still hear your breathing. You hold your breath. Silence. Darkness. Yet you feel gravity, your feet on the floor. Then the air brushes your skin. Remove the air,…

Hey, That's One Gulp per Magic Fish to You, Bub

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This is the hole I fell in. I can sort of crawl out of it now, but I must have fallen fastasleep in there. Does it really matter if it was for a long or a short time? Everyone is suddenly gone like a smile and replaced lately by sadly different versions…

The Wedding Is Off

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I sat in the kitchen with the phone in my hand. The phone had just stopped ringing. When it rang, its screen lit up with the face of the caller. It vibrated and played a tune called "Dusk 2 Dawn." Now the kitchen was silent.

On news of your demise

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The news just now that you are dead

Beating

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Season's felicitations!

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

Mr. Bourgeois Drowns His Sorrows

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Late last night down at Jim's Saloon Everyone expected that the last balloon Would go Boom! The one they all saw coming And Lady Liberty would send the bad guys running

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...

Palinode for a Love That Failed

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

Promenade

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At the week's end, memories may come to you Of weekends same as those just gone before, That fade away from seeing as a tide's grey flue, That vanishes once travelled to a shifting shore: Still, hope you'll know a girl for an hour anew, One who fades…

They Don't Get to Say Everything

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The world hasn't ended. Your part in it is still ongoing. The going on world hasn't winked out. Every possibility is still out there. In there, out there, it doesn't matter where you are. The here and now claims you for its only tribe. They only want someone to tell them…

Lvoe

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like a hundred cracks of thunder / or my brain seizing up, going all floppy on me ...

Big Top Boogie

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I had the blues. I was feeling down the day the circus came to town. There was cash in my pocket and a bag of weed. I went to the circus with a desperate need to renew my faith in the good of mankind. Perhaps under the big top some laughs I’d find.

Eyeball

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"Here's the bad news: you have to wear a patch over your eye for the next six weeks."

Genesis

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Nothing came of the dust.

Mugabe Western

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They were self-contained, two nymphs in a photo booth. Maria wanted something different—love to spread across her face like a wide smile, a certain grace. Sometimes she had found love like that at parties.

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

The Jewelry of Yaks

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It’s too early in the morning to play the glockenspiel. I’ll just sit here and knit this tiger.

Genius

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Everything I write is gold, he mused. My words spill onto the page like ambrosia, nectar of the gods, filling an empty vessel with immortal life.

Our Dreams Were Their Feathers

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The white moon is dangling by a thread tonight. I close my eyes and listen to it undress. Your halo fell around your ankles and you became see-through, but there’s a vast gulf between being pretty, and pretty dangerous. Still, I’ve s

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…

One

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His will is whole, inviolate, and wholly full of possibility.

Portrait without Birds

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so Tippi has no interest

Thanksgiving

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Didn't usually go to the parade because it was long and cold But only a few blocks from the apartment Maybe if the sun had warmed all up some

My First Winter in Massachusetts

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My first winter in Massachusetts feels medieval: cold, dark, and endless.

picture (im)perfect

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not