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Bohemian Grove

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“Why, that's the faggotiest thing I've ever heard of!” Richard M. Nixon actually said. But how could he say that? Henry went there. …

Story of the Once Magnificent Big Ole, Shaggy Tree's Awful Demise

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The world is beginning to lose what little hair it has left. Follicles litter the streets and scrape along merrily in the wind like one last turn of the world defying knob of being and knowing. But the thing I want to say here is how beautiful…

Clowns, Panthers, White Clouds

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I ran down a list of the few car-related words I knew: Battery? Gas tank? It was an admittedly short list.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 50

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Ben did not respond, but sat staring lizard-eyed at the shattered remains of his glorious musical instrument.

Still

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I wanted only to be still, to become a rustle for a moment of papery fall leaves sighing past one another on their way to the funeral pyre in the front lawn, sweetly fragrant with the scent of death and inevitable decline, fearless in their annihilation, incandescent…

icing on the cake

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The sexuality comes over us in waves. We need to hold things, someone. The women, the men, side by side, our features blending together. We notice the small curved lines at the corners of the mouth. We notice everything. And the animal is still inside m

Revisionist History

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A break from bleak world history and events...

Peace and Love from the Middle of Nowhere

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Miles from anywhere that mattered, he stood by the side of the road staring at the two-lane highway that outlined the edge of suburbia like a cement fence. Steam rose from the hood of his car as he sat on the ground and waited for the other shoe to drop.

A glimpse of death

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It all had to begin somewhere; some moment of time and space which arose in perfection- and dissolved into the now. It was a beginning he couldn't quite remember, couldn't grasp onto- it simply sifted through his fingers, sand floating away with the wind. That's not to say…

I'm Hoping, I'm Reaching

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I'm hoping, I'm reaching, I'm scratching the sky...

77 Words About Nothing (Sundays)

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Sunday nights weren't massive. They were Sunday mornings that remained.

Discards

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Church-lady dresses with matching jackets

Suicide Watch

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It's good to be home. It's good to be home. It's very good to be home

Alexander & Diogenes

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Alexander, Macedonian Boy-King, / having arrived at conquered Corinth, said: / "I would like to meet that famous madman / this land of wisdom-loving fools has bred."

Why Don't You Just Take Off Your Top

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You were there at the beginning almost, when I wanted to write about the dead spider I smashed on my bedroom wall, comparing it to the blue/grey smoke of the blown-off fireworks drifting overhead.

Surf Song

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Morning. A hot bright sun shines down on the cool dark depths of the deep blue sea.

My Composite Girlfriend

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Her dad regaled me with stories of his up-from-the-bootstraps climb out of poverty on the hard-scrabble, rough-and-tumble Lower East Side of New York, where he founded the leading supplier of hyphens to writers of purple prose.

The beginning of the end

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(...) I know my eyes are shut and I’m on the kitchen floor but I see her and I’m not confused. (...)

Forgiveness

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Inside a restroom stall, Herbert Casey Jr. took a soggy roll of cash from his boot and placed a quarter of the wet bills into his wallet. He divided the rest into the three empty pockets of his blue jeans.

Sunday Morning Series- Two: A Tender Faith

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feeding the lions, tigers

The Gift

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There is no need to worry about art. Art in its ideal forms stays safe. Real art resists being the object of attention. It directs your gaze, and it swings in you forever.

Sidewalk Opera

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She is left feeling like she has missed a stop, that she's at the last stop, that she's somewhere she wasn't meant to be.

Mischief

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If you don't want to die, go fetch me a pie

In the Beginning...

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In the beginning there was salt. God licked the salt and said it was Good. Then there was light. And then chocolate.

Moreneta

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Hold my heart the child in your arms The roses of April blooming, I bend down before you cracked and broke Spilled out like albumin.

Brucey

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I kept my seat. Passengers packed in the aisle weren't moving and until they were, neither was I.

Cut His Finger Playing Air Guitar

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How long to make something pretty?

Europa Sonnets - 5-8

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5. To hate one's race is always overrated;We built fair cities where there were no huts.The Frankfurt School should all have been castrated,And strung up by a noose made of their guts.Marcuse, you have caused the death of Europe,With Gramsci, Adorno, Freud and all…

Hot Rocks

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We go to the spa on my wife’s day off and get a manipedi. A swarm of little women pounces and works on our fingers and toes.

narcissus, remember me

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You were never at all like Narcissus, trying to remember girls’ names with marble in their eyes. You never adored your own image, looking at yourself in the river, not like I did (looking in the mirror that brings sleep.) I remember you admiring the dre