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Swimming

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I held on to the edge

Forgetting Superman

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I forget you. Upfront: that’s how this ends.

Ode To A Wave

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She comes and goes,gingerly at times, or, caution tossed,a headlong rushof foam and froth.No matter, I am steadfast,keen to be immersed once morein her salty splendor.

Pillow

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The sky was an over-bleached sheet, stretched to the point of ripping. Everything worn but clean. He was saying he'd be happier if we lived in Canada. The sun seemed very close, like a star at the top of a Christmas tree. Maybe I could pull it down. Our baby had…

insomnia made bearable

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the cheek of you! to dream/ upon my sheets in schoolboy peace/ when here i lie,/ each second spent/ a tranquilized tiger cursed with awareness/ for all the flesh so near its maw.

Academic Papers & The People Who Write Them

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It distresses me that I do not write enough. I know I’ve told you before that I don’t read, and it may be super-ridiculous to tell you now that I don’t write much either, but that is the sad catastrophe I with affection refer to as my life.

Squish-Squash

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Dan leaned back on his haunches and smoked. He was a massive man, not the type to sit like that. But he did. He sat like that, smoking and he said: “I feel like this kid I went to school with. Everybody called him Squish-Squash.” We asked him…

Earth's the Right Place for Love

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When he turns around she has her top off and is climbing out of her skirt. "I don't like old men that much," she says. "We don't have to talk. No one will know."

Extracurricular

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Later I take his hand, and I lead him up the stairs. I want to show him something, I say.

Waiting for a Terrorist

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Tents staked in desert land, a muted building of parched earth, in a thirty year old city with a napalm birth, they wait among gravestones in the sand.

4 o' clock

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I still walk into galleries. A shadow of my old self still walks into galleries. That old self was hungry to be wounded by the juxtaposition of color and form and texture and line and darkness and light. But I can no longer see art. I can…

Bad Dad

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When they were seven, he’d taken them out to the desert and let them shoot a .38 at rusted cans. The explosions rocked them back on their heels.

Call Name Mary Magdalene

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His hands fumble over my curves like he’s petting his golden retriever. He wears in inexperience on his face like I wear my mascara.

Land of Beastiality and the One Night Stand, #2

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You want L.A.? I’ll give you L.A. Land of the perpetual one-night stand. Land of the Leslies and the Sweets lying around all day in their bed just around the corner from this convent across the street from my apartment that took in the pregnant and the lo

The Gulf

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My 99 year old mother...

Driving Home at Midnight

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Driving home at midnight, on a night so dark, so wild. Headlights can't pierce the gateway to oblivion.

WHAT WE REMEMBER MAY NOT REMEMBER US

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1. The clouds and the shadows of the clouds. The early light, like the night undressing herself revealing pink beneath, underneath the glory and the intimacy like early love made of arms only arms fingers and…

Lay on Me

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On Friday nights I'm not there.

Yeah Yeah I Will I Promise

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After we have sex I slip cash into your purse, just a few bucks, without you knowing. You're not a whore, but I'd like to buy you lunch sometime without having to be there.

Sliver

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It was beautiful and bright and it felt so real.

Mouth Manifesto

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I want you to kiss me like you’re listening to my tongue. I want you to hear the rhythm of my heart through my lips. Can you feel what I’m telling you? If you’re entering my borders, it doesn’t matter where - my mouth, my pussy, my ear... you’d better pay

I Hate Your Favorite Band

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He (after learning of my former occupation as a record store owner): So, what is your favorite band of all time?

The Bicycle

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Oh what fun they had riding that bike! What adventures! They went everywhere, in town and out.

The Underwear Thing

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Our banter has shifted, like wading from the shallow to the deep end. He taps his foot. “Your underwear reminded me of my grandma’s underwear.”

Love?

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There's a mutual recognition...

Featherbedding

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She sets the muffins aside, opens herself, nymph-like, mouth spread and gritty. She pulls the dirty edge of his gray t-shirt up so to show herself to him, spreads herself across the mattress like thin flesh oil over too much canvas....

Go Ahead

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A drag queen thrown from the mechanical bull Thursday night is my fault, they say, they meaning management. And because of the ensuing brouhaha and the ambulance and the medics and a thousand flannel shirts straining for a look, I failed to pick up Jenny, my six-year-old…

Bus Ride

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Pretty boy looks over at me and grins, got a smoke?

Waiting for "Barney" (Mordecai Richler's version)

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But there’s a special place in my heart for Richler’s tour de force of a novel, his grand finale, Barney’s Version. It has everything — humour, a whiff of mystery, poignancy, a suggested reading list for a literary illiterate like yours truly, the Falstaf

Jim Morrison Is Not Dead

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At a good distance, he stood. Hair, gray, stringy, long as a horse’s mane. His beard, thick, unkempt. Like a caterpillar, a smile worked across his face. No, he said. It won’t be another Miami. Not another Miami.