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This Is Not Your Poetry

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Your begging hands are hacking me up again like garden claws that know not the difference between a delicate solar powered flower and a tightening choke of killing weeds.It's not like it's even mine to keep-- like a legal document I'd…

The January Oak

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tiny banners, browned/ and wrinkled by time,

Reflector

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I circled about six times - mesmerized by the sign that said you needed socks. Just passing through it said - As I made my third pass I thought - well, aren't we all.You looked cold. Fragile. And younger than the wrinkles that engulfed your hands, neck…

Buena Vista Street

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Nostalgia is when memories turn into Gods of knowing who you were.

Little Ditty Down

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I got caught writing poems at the paint factory several times before they fired me I got caught in the middle of one of my best lines but can’t remember what I meant to say anymore, but I know, just know it was something real good,

Running Down The Drive-By Screamers

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All the wonderful Zen-like molecules had dispersed from my body and were now hiding deep in a dark corner. Rage boiled in my blood. My veins, in fact, couldn't contain the boiling blood and they exploded, making my whole face and skin turn blood red. My

The Woman on the Train

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When I awoke she was there again, the woman with the blue scarf. She was standing by the compartment door, gazing out at the passing countryside, the rolling hills of France. I had seen her before, at the market buying flowers, outside a cafe hailing a taxi,…

The Big Faith

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She didn’t want anybody to hear her heaving and crying. She frantically pulled as much toilet paper as possible and stuffed it into her mouth so her sobs would be silenced. Then she slid against the wall next to the toilet and landed on the concrete floor

Silent Minority

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She smoothed her hair with a hand that should have been the turning pages of a cheap dime-store novel. I watched her from under my eyebrows but kept my head fixed downward, pretending to pay attention to the 6 ½ narrow stiletto heeled black alligator pumps. Not easy to do,…

Cape Charles

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"ain't hardly got a lick o' crabs today"

Other Brothers of American Crime, Chapter Fourteen

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An extended account of his criminal exploits for a criminal syndicate of Midwestern newspapers and radio stations hastened a change of career plans.

Sensible Things

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Thirty-seven stitches to sew your ear on, five more to close the skin above your eyebrow...

The Dummy Drop

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I looked at my now silent cell phone feeling like an idiot. Thad was standing next to me, that shit eating grin plastered on his face like gravy stains on an old shirt."So Genius Jones, what the fuck did he say to you?" asked Thad, sarcasm dripping onto the floor. "She blew…

Creamy, Dreamy, Coppertone Cologne

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and live for that moment

Otherwise Chaos

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“It’s okay” Her psychic from Santa Fe Said on the speaker phone: "live and love and create otherwise chaos"

Dead Bear

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Most likely, the dead bear would be such a mind-fuck for the building crew that they’d probably just remove it quietly. There could be fines and reports and loads of paperwork involved…news would spread and inspections would follow. Yep, they would probab

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.7 - c.5

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Azure lifted her head up – her heart racing – and she closed her eyes focusing her mind.

luncheon on the grass

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I had a dream, I remember, where I am in this painting, Luncheon on the Grass. My dress was thrown off and the picnic basket, filled with bread and fruit, is spilled out upon it, and I am sitting nude on my underclothing, with two gentlemen fully dresse

FIREWORKS

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It's eight fifteen in the morning, my favorite time to call, and a guy named Ernie DeCampo answers the door in his work pants and a t-shirt. “Good morning, Mr.De Campo,” I say. “Do you have any fireworks in your home?” …

Sequence Instead of Services on Sunday

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We reach for things and objects// made of ever smaller things and objects

Firecracker to the Dome

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pulling my bones apart, fingers are supernatural beings

Swaying on This Articulation Until We Slow

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In Nebraska, I looked up from the flatness, to her face, then down to the page and saw this: Real people have joy.

Wildfire

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Those resting in clusters of bones, Cradled in ashes of what once were homes.

Almond

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Almonds of childhood – fending off needless tears and chocolate impulses, almonds of my teens, slivered and toasted industrially baked settling in on egg washed croissant…mashed into the kitchen sink of the catch-all bear claw, then the taste and shiv

Surge Of Green

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Already past the harbinger of yellow crocus

Enigmas

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Fish don't walk.

Never

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When a woman dies too young, Say at 42, Her bones broken, Her body bruised Beyond recognition Much less repair; When she dies Thrashing In the street Amid rainbow-hued pools Of water and gasoline And blood, Anointed on a bed Of broken glass In a…

Late Night Phone Call

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When the phone rings that late at night, it’s not good.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 44

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He found a small place on a side street, Bar Oiseaux Ésotérique. There was a sign on the door that read: Jazz Ce Soir: Giovanni Lezardino: Jazz grillé et sautés. Ben had met Lezardino at the Newport Jazz Festival last year.

goddess of personified flesh

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And yes, I may be the goddess of personified flesh, the same little goddess of curled locks, of little sleep, on fire, ablaze. With my sudden weakness, stoppage of breath, pulse cut short, leaving the wrist. And you of stolen, fraudulent face, troub