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A tanka poem inspired by the CEO's apology and a 10% discount for the 40 million debit card numbers stolen at Target store since Black Friday.
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I dreamed I might one day become the numero uno tango singer in Boston.
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Oh, I cant stop singingThis human heart beatingWhat people say do not interest meAs much what goes on in their heartsThe heart is were they are really atNo matter what they saySome call it the IdSome call it the subconscious Some call in the willSome call it the…
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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…
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As individual as a shadow and the opposite of ‘stone faced’, Sidney Elvin “Ike” Liebowitz, with a clean-shaven face, well kempt hair and sideburns a quarter of an inch off of his ears, walks down a dirty and dimly lit street pondering sneakers.
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It’ll all make sense when you're sitting on an éclair chaise longue by the morning pool of coffee.
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“Yes, Mother, of course I’m still single. No, I haven’t joined the Army. No, I’m not moving back home.”
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I would read her stories on quiet summer days as we sat along the river, just the two of us stretched out in the tall grass, hidden in the shade of the pine trees lining the banks of the Mullica while a gentle breeze cooled our skin. She liked the way I read to…
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Joey tried to shoot the cop with his air gun but the cop sprayed Joey with pepper spray.
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(I would cite here “corpse plumbers”, but I fear being misconstrued.)
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I remember when I pulled in the way the car door sounded When it yawned open. I think it may need some oil. In the dress you just bought, With one golden flip flop dangling from Your big toe -- The other under the bench, you told me. "We'll be having a …
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The bull had flesh of a deep red that turned black where the massive muscles knotted. Colt thought of the way blood turns black when it pools too deep. There was nothing but muscle, an intricate network of coarse fibers woven tightly and wrapped in a thin
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I check the NPR news app. The story about the shooting in Pittsburg has already been pushed off the homepage. There is an article about yellow fever in the 14th century, a potential ceasefire in Yemen, players protesting the national anthem, a plane crash
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The rising sun was hidden from his eyes by the hips of the woman next to him in the bed.
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Remove with care, then slowly lay the string, wide well-soaked end at left-hand edge, to start, and allow to curve, to bend, to almost loop and wind its way at rest across the mottled, patterned green
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Whoever told us that truth-telling was so wonderful,
when we can plainly see that lying is the way to get results?
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I glance back over my shoulder as you fumble with the keys. Repeatedly. You swear a little under your breath. You finally locate the proper one and the large door swings open. I hold it as you run over to the alarm keypad. You punch in the code written on a…
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I inhale the smoke from a burning cigarette
held between two stained fingers that are not mine.
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We do not want to be here. Need ensnares/
and pulls us. We put on its tightened face/
which mirrors what each guest will wear
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What do you Americans say, here is ze kicker?
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Those who have lost at game shows meet each week for mutual support. All is well, until they start disappearing in ways related to their ill-fated appearances as contestants.
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The light streaming out of the background of things, in the absence of memory. That’s what I’m talking about. Prepare to let out all your light from night until dawn, if you want to be in the middle of life. I never wanted to stay at the edges. It didn’
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Francesco entered the gallery, and he immediately went to work.
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Where does the foam from the lattes go?
I'm not being flip--I want to know.
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Creating a world in which no one believes . . . killing a world in which no one could believe.
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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
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While laying in his hospital bed recovering from a minor heart attack, Professor Martin Hellman reads details of an ancient book he has been given for translation--Biblos Melas, or, the "Black Book." Excerpted from the forthcoming novel "Minion Web."
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By the time he says “I am tired of the smell of pig shit and death” you’ve already lost interest
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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.
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