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Sundays

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First was the end of the month Sunday morning picnic. Well, Not first - there was more. Something Before then. But, You looked different with wind in your Hair and Never the same again. The mud on your skirt matched my thoughts. You'd fallen, I'm sure, and I…

Puke

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What the fuck is that smell? Puke? Pine-Sol? Oh shit!Back seat of a cop car.Again?What is it this time?“Excuse me, officer? Where the fuck are my clothes?”

Beauty Comes Trailing After Us

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hat

To Fill the Hollows

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most famously, a small/ writhing dog. A thousand casts were made/ before they stopped

Main Street

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You know when you see the flashing blue lights in your rearview mirror that you're not being pulled over because of a busted taillight or carelessly doing fifty in a thirty-five mile an hour school zone; your crime is being a Black man behind the wheel. It happens often…

Colors of the Last Bright Morning

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I am a housekeeper at a private women's college in upstate New York.

WE SHOULDN'T HAVE BOUGHT THE FIREWORKS

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My chin is half-eaten. My chest is gone. There is a rhythm to how each flame licks me. Like how you used to in the mornings before work. Before the coffee. Before the toaster. Before a rose clenched between your teeth and dancing.

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

Return

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We head home, skirting along the coast, humble before catapulting waves; the lighthouse near invisible if not for a single band of red.

He'd Risen Up

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“Where did this come from?” Greenblatt snapped as he pulled a pamphlet from his coat pocket with the words “Jews for Jesus” on it.

My Space

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Hey, can you move over and let me sit down here? In German you would use Raum to mean room, or for an area, a region or something like that. There is another word for “room,” as in a room in a house, but you can't use either of those words to ask someone

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.

Nascent Talk with the Gypsy

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She was having a laugh, but I didn't know what about. We were sitting in a big house that was on the top of a large incline. All these books were scattered around, and the walls and the kitchen, the doors and the quarter round and every other thing, was old and…

Where the Subways Go Above Ground in Brooklyn

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The rocks are hot along the East RiverBelow hazy skies sent from Jersey Traffic.Pigeons peck at pieces of detritus,Walking calmly by pedestrians passingThrough the park during their allotted lunchHour. A girl with a strange frame —As if her ribs fused with her hips…

Playground

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The Keds-stubbed grass, toy trucks without wheels, and Band-aids threaded in the sand… Most parenting is vigilance. Seconds ahead of its own sound, a passenger jet spears the heights not far above the treetops, …

Where Does the Foam From the Lattes Go?

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Where does the foam from the lattes go? I'm not being flip--I want to know.

Nervous Energy

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This is what you have to do to keep the unruly parts of your brain from open revolt.

Mom #2

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We’d sometimes find my mother asleep in her chair outside her trailer at the nudist camp when we drove up. She loved her garden there, even with the rabbits eating her young tomato plants. She used to coax the bluebirds down to the railing of her trailer

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.

Late Night Phone Call

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

Affair

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No clouds No rain

The Magic of the Old Man

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As far as I knew it was just an old man and his wife who lived in this house, but not really. I mean if you had seen what every person on that block had, you would have realized that many lived there, well many beings.

The Painter Tourist

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demanded he give up muscatel art

L.A. Blonde

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Then there was Marsha, the blonde bombshell, at Irvine, who slept over one night only. As in the original one night stand, your standard L.A. blonde beach-girl bombshell ex-cheerleader tear your heart out and spit it as far as she could. Wrench your bal

Lapses

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The body does what a body must

Mail from the Ungrund: A Tardy Preamble

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nevertheless, this crowd had come up with a universal cure for humanity, and regardless of consequences . . .

The Parallel World of the Tango

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

Lies And Bullshit

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You sit brooding at the barOn a Friday nightOn the patio on a Friday nightAnd people try to figure you outI thinkAnd I am so quite andSo tired Too tired to even drive homeDrainedI just need that drink to feel betterAnd I stare off in a hazeWhats wrong?I don't…

Lift

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He repeated Honey, I miss you. He could be cruel. He let their son chase his kite for hours in the park while he sat between two tourists on their way out of the city just last week. He could hear her now, running a bath for herself, forgetting John's Apple Jacks before…

#1

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“I am the Successor of Peter!” he said, supporting himself on the shepherd’s staff topped with a crucifix: “And you are trespassing on Holy Ground.” Baal said: “No ground is Holy for me.