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Aging Bikers and Biker Chicks on Vacation

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Chin beards, flannel shirts, Levis no boots anymore, just loose sandals their chicks with double triple multiple chins falling asleep on their own palms

(we can only hope)

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And you should know, every woman smiles at a man buying flowers, because … we can imagine. We can only hope.

beginning

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time lost in darkness

gravelortian part 21

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Happy is a look we are trying to wear better

Test

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We’re safe as houses/ and unmoved. We grow/ accustomed to the sound

I will miss you

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I will miss you, sure, let it be known. The memory, and the dream, both. That familiar smell of Old Spice when someone wearing it comes near. And the smell of Coppertone Suntan Lotion on the beaches of our youth in Chicago. And the pressure of your fing

Winter in the Hague

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There is only me and the crooked pavement that leads to your dim tower.

The Ghost

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I stroll out to the front lawn, and find myself against the sea of grass, painted daubs within the frame of a distilled rock. My ears attuned to the starlets warbling on the twisted branches of the lone tree, flock of wings that find subtlety and shine in the rapture…

Launch Day

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the echo of the hull's first contact with the water will pull the past through the present and the present into the past.

gravelortian part 15

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Eager to please the guards, doctors and preachers

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.

Bloody Toe

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Owen had never seen his boyfriend cry, but while he was in the bathroom having a cigarette through the open window, he heard Devin sniffling and coughing back tears. A bit shocked, he decided not to confront Devin or acknowledge that he had heard. Italian men could be…

Downtown

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From the parking lot to the stadiumdown town waiting for the crossinglightthere are a few others in jerseys but not manywe are too early for that.Desert gravel crunching scuffle of canvas shoeskicking granitehop along wobble steps and I turn to seewho's off the…

Memoirs from a Book

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I know you want to hold me. I won't break. I love you. Your hands - when they caress me are soft and gentle. My words speak only to you. They speak of love and of how we spend…

Numismatics

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The next/ may be the lucky one,/ undiscovered all these years.

Love Makes the Boundaries Disappear

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She was asked: “What would it mean to be in a great earthquake to you?” She said: “It would mean that I might never see him again.” Then she panicked. She came to me and said: “Do you mind riding in the other car? I have to ride in the same car wi

Strange Land

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I was still18 years old when the plane landed in South Korea. It was 10AM, Friday. Stepping off the jet way, it could have been any airport in America. But it wasn't. As soon as we got in the airport we were hustled to Customs. Filled out a bunch of forms. Asked…

Communion

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I dream empty, the wind blowing benzene blue. Shards of glass. Barbed wire. Bricks crushing flame into notions gone quick, never painless. Is it my blood? In my eyes. On my hands. Is it for you? I'm not sure where I'm walking here. Walking towards what from. Is it…

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…

Nothing Beside Remains

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It was the early 80's My students carried / guns.

A Cloud of Words for Winter

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What I would say

justice in obverse and reverse

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seriously: let defendants choose their coin, / execute their own calls, make their own coin flips― / attentive referee, no need for a court.

I'll find you - A Dedication to Mathew Paust

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Matt was among those rare creatures; an ideal kind of reader ...

Your party invitation just arrived (guest poem by Carolyn Martin)

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"I’d rather move a word around a page than raise a glass or pass a plate or work a room immune to poetry."

Unsaid Words

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Some things are said. Others, never.

The Lady and the Boy

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The aftermath of a lady's adultery.

Playing Pretend

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“Can I get apple juice and milk?” “Yes.” “And a chocolate shake?” “Will you finish all that and your food?” “Probably not.” “Still yes. Get whatever you want.” The waitress took the order. Along…

The Joint is Out of Time: A Journal of the Plague Year, Day 108

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History in the unmaking.

Perils of Poetry in a Pandemic

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...the bulk of poets are amateurs.

Surf Song

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