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I Must Slip The Batman a Fin

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The Batman says it's his birthday. I take him at his word.

Frank Meets Francine

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I interviewed in an hour and didn’t have an umbrella, so I ducked inside the next door I passed. It didn’t matter what they sold, I wasn’t there to make a purchase.

House By The Sea

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We were young, she said, it was all in front of us. We should never have settled for this.

Wahrheit und Dichtung

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When I was eight years old, I stepped into / a snow bank in Pennsylvania and sank / in over my head

The Thrill of Sky Diving

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It's not that you want to be silkworm all your life. That's what I'm telling my on-again-off-again girlfriend aboard the plane. Her name is Phoebe as in that song about a girl who lived in her own world within the shell of another. Phoebe, I'm saying, to bridge distances…

The Saurians' Revenge

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I’ve never liked birds. There’s something smug about the way they look at us, we prisoners of gravity, something self-congratulatory in their songs. Maybe I’m just projecting my own feelings about being stuck on the ground, attributing attitudes t

Love at First Sight

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Life ascends gradually—just like they always said. I stop counting on immediate transformations—the overnight best-seller, instant enlightenment—and instead focus on what I can do: Writing a little each day and making it to Mass on the weekend. I even giv

FENG THE CHEF REALIZES CHINA’S NOT BUYING SALMON FROM NORWAY

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China refuses them politely, politely in that Communist way of saying without saying.

Retire! Dance! Die! But First, Pass the Chocolate. Boomers According to Google.

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Born in 1954, I identify as a Baby Boomer. But what does that mean, really? Who exactly are we Boomers? And how does the world see us? I decided to perform a quick Google Search and find out. I typed in the phrase “Boomers Are…” Here's…

The '08 Campaign And the Crash

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Here's the '08 presidential campaign in a nutshell: The Dems couldn't dredge up a white guy that even the dead in Chicago would vote for, so they went with Obama. Meanwhile, the GOP couldn't dig Reagan up try as they might,…

Conjured love

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Love heals. Lovers know this from the start, Yet they may not know with certainty What love is. Not that it matters especially When they find the magic within the power Of unfolding lust, Of redemption, Of unmitigated joy. There's a mutual…

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.

From the Kitchen of my Childhood

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An ice block heart rushed home to the beat of its melt.

Tofino

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They giggled at me when they thought I was asleep, giggled at the size of my balls, which had never been a problem before her. Said it was because of my tiny balls that we only had two children.

And then she was gone

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Given the nature of the events that were to follow I'm pretty sure that no one sane could have been equipped to comprehend, much less deal with, the coming weirdness any better than I was.

Stone Cold Sexy

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You drink in women's bodies, without reserve. You take a sip at the post office, a gulp at the gym, a teensy taste when we walk together. Tonight you even indulged as we were looking for a parking spot and passed some twenty-somethings, then followed up w

Crocodilian

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it ate her and then I was next in line

Sloth

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(Insert poignant line here)

The Cool Report

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I didn't go to China, however. I would have gone there in debt wearing their clothing. I was afraid to owe even $4,000 (what I still owe) living overseas.

Power Ballad

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Her eyes were brown. But he wasn’t sure. He looked again: her eyes were blue. Her eyes were blue, and looking straight at him.

Eclipse

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On the first day of autumn, in the rear courtyard of the Léger estate, Yvette Mongrain was scrubbing down the glass tables and wrought iron chairs that had been trucked in from Paris the morning before and arranged across the flagstones.

Becoming an Author

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"good luck, and be assured acceptance for representation or publication is based on different criteria at different agencies and we are sure you will yet find someone mentally deficient enough to give your book a shot."

To the prostitutes on Boracay

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. . . not if I have anything to do with it.

Tattooed Hands

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A 1960’s of walking sugar beet fields to remove the rogue bolters by hand and on other days painting the ironwork of cattle sheds with red oxide. Then a 1970’s when the self-inking explosion of tattoos on his hands and then his body began.

The Krafft-Ebing Poems

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his dreams are filled / with aprons

Stevie Wonder

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Like Prince said one time, parties aren't meant to last. Guys who don't get the message are guys who die by the inch.

Babybonic Plague

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What is the half-life of the daycare cold? That's what I'd like to know. Somewhere a scientist is carbon-dating a pterodactyl's knuckles, but does anyone really care?

The Ex-Boyfriend Checks in on Saturday Night by Cell Phone

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(originally appeared in Lit Up)http://litupmagazine.wordpress.com/poetry/rusty-barnes/Remind me never to call youagain after you get home late,for the familiar fear of the deadbolt noise,the shifty creak of your linoleum floor,the way you throw your jacket overthe sofa and…

Hello, My Name Is James, And I Am An Asshole

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By my calculations, all hell is uncoiling. At the moment, this fact is not really obvious to anyone, but I'm confident that will change soon enough.

Untitled

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I had the day off so I decided to do some fishing, browsing for new writers at the fish tanks, book shelves filled with American Literature and I began near Zelazny, trolling backwards with an eye out, hunting, hoping to find a buried treasure in an unsun