Most read stories

Drinking the Wild Virgin

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I really think we ought to be drinking The Wild Virgin again I remember having a beer once And feeling like a minor god, yes Just like you did So, now, listen to me: if she snores all night That’s one thing But if she screws the lights out

Sounding Well

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There is Truth in imperfection,Symmetry in distortion.Like a sounding well,You can determine the depth of me--PlumbTruthfrom myCore.Test your breath against meSay lies all--I will not believe them.Here am I,Proof Against your intransigence.But do not despair:There…

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 46

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Maria Monsanto, the curator of Francesco Martinelli's Atmospheres show, stood in the middle of the third-floor gallery.

Clockwhipped

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I now felt prepared to waltz under a K bullet that hits a stucco brick above the tropical hibiscus.

What I Do

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I display feelings of great witness and clasp the rails and try not to fall. I try to fit the social rhythms of the garden party. I do not succeed. I pack my bags and go.

of love and death

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- I wish I were taller. - You also wish I never die.- What´s your point?- Santa Claus must really hate you.------ What´s the most ridiculous thing someone´s ever asked you?- Please never die. - But you promised!------ I just want to go to sleep, I´m…

Falling

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She lets the book drop through her fingers to the floor and stares straight ahead watching the red lights streak by in the darkness. The train rocks her away from the seat and back; she rolls her spine along the plastic to absorb the motion, taking it away from…

2 Poems featuring A Century of Art

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"MAN S FEET HAVE GROWN/SO BIG THAT HE/FORGETS HIS LITTLENESS"--DON MARQUISA Century of Art by Darryl Price"Man's feet have grown so big that he forgets his littleness."--Don Marquis Everything in this chummy little place talks to your face without stopping to…

we were not deer

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The crescent moon lies with anyone (in case you wanted to know.) And the rain – as cheaply! I don’t think anyone knows this, when they are young. When you are young, very young, you want to be included in everything. “The young that the sea took, ki

Nola Visit

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The little Lady and I drove down to New Orleans to take in the Mardi Gras festivities we’d read so much about.

The We

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You gotta see this new drugdelivered thru a procedurally exacting pill Sugar coated yetcompletely foul tastingDrought drowning and will make you blowfish-cheekedIt creates coincidences with bafflement and symmetry Meaningfully uncertain…

He's So Pretty I'd Dump My Boyfriend For Him

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I remember when we first met, telling my friends, He’s so pretty I’d dump my boyfriend for him. I remember driving all around Elmhurst looking for parking. We sat in the car eating figs and popcorn. We tried to throw the fig pits or stumps, or wh

Bucket

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There was a bucket of shit . . .

This is Not an Indie Movie

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This is not an indie movie about love and happiness and Al Green songs redone by actresses pretending to be songwriters.

No. 6 Kleingemainergasse

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As it was, she was on a mission to get back and either close the chapter or re- open it on her former lover. Something was curiously drawing her to him. She was frank with the man on the plane. He understood. When they deplaned on the tarmack in a snowsto

Famous Female Artist

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My dog Alfie and I would get in my van and go out at midnight for a doughnut. Or an éclair. A French cruller, to be exact. Sometimes we would get Blondie's Pizza on Telegraph Avenue near the Berkeley campus, if it got to be too lonely and restless at nigh

Rest In Peace

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Gone he is in his designated place Just resting in peace while I barely move on

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 49

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Francesco entered the gallery, and he immediately went to work.

A Return to Silence

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Instead we dunked the men in vats of grease and boiling water. Instead we tore apart the books from which they emerged. Instead we found the graves of their mothers and detonated bombs.

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…

Won’t You Be My Neighbor

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I passed the Crouching Tiger Qui Gong dojojo with Suntory Dagdibolbishon.

Notes

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just want to write a music note rap my hands all over my throat jump into the city to stay afloat gotta build me a damn big boat

Code Book of Apathy

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that lightheaded feeling you have right now is a good thing

Of Poems About Figs and Farts

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When Prince Rainier III asked an expert whether there was a literature of Monaco, her research produced only a suggestive ode to a fig and a poem about a fart.

Someday

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and as in real life, occasionally sneezed on.

A Flap and a Flutter from a Belfry

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After our visit to Phoenix and following our inspection of the Grand Canyon, our seminary octet continued its twelve-thousand mile sojourn across the country as a quintet.

Lapses

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The body does what a body must

The Parallel World of the Tango

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I dreamed I might one day become the numero uno tango singer in Boston.

First Law Blues

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Energy is constant though it may manifest/ as dust motes atop the housing of your monitor/ and in the fibers of the filter of your fan coil unit

Intensive Seminar Helps Cat Poets Sharpen Their Claws

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With a notch in his ear from an honor-mad fight And a tail that is shorter than at last sunlight.