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Blocked (Inspired by Duchamp's Étant donnés)

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I wanted to enter, but was blocked. Before me was a wood door with two peepholes, and through the slits I saw a brick wall, a leather torso beyond resting upon twigs, velvet, glass and “glue” spread, legs wide. Against a…

The Depth of the Dust

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Can anyone remember what the Great American dream was?

Short Cuts

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Her through the phone line, a pause, a hold in her voice. Mom. The things we miss as adults, the turns of phrase, the little pauses. The in between of conversations are opportunities are avenues, five lane highways where we can be…

Imaginary Friend

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"Where've you been?" the image in the mirror asked. "I haven't seen you since yesterday," she said. "Yeah, I miss you too," he said.

Let the Fat Man Sing

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For every Ruben Studdard, there are ten Mick Jaggers and, considered merely in terms of avoirdupois, the two sides of that scale would probably balance.

Islands

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Off of the northeastern coastline there was a series of islands that won bread and butter through fishing. We walked off the ferry and through various docks while noticing vessels come in slowly boasting sides protected by worn plastic fenders on ropes affixed to…

The visitors

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I am a small cottage up on the hill. Every morning, I open my windows and my front door. First enters dawn which turns the walls blue, followed by the sun laying straws of wheat on my table. Inside my cottage the day lights up the dark corners while the lamps go quietly…

be kind to your pieces…/torn

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Pieces that said shrug a shrug and then another and one to right with the eyes that squint and one to left with rhythm that never left. And piece after piece, after piece they stich themselves, née weave a tapestry that is the dance your very walk swayed

Intervention

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I got a call from Fiona last night. She asked that I come down this evening, to meet at Penny's place. "It's an Intervention, Al," she said, which told me everything I needed to know about what the meeting would be about.

The Day I Got Fired From My Foundation Job

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But of course, I didn’t get the grant, so my day job in communications at Katzenfeld continued. It was the first job I got out of college. I had been there for over a year and my salary was less than my rent and student loans combined, so I had to keep my

Yesterday

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played-out

gravelortian part 20

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Baby who battles with devils

Subways are Silver

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Subways are silver Taxis are yellow and Trees are green.

There’s No Peace In The World

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Then there was the time I splurged, hoping a higher-priced phone might keep me from slamming it against the wall.

Twentieth Century Chats, in Six Acts

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M. CALLAGHAN: I’ve got a lot on my mind. You’re drunk, aren’t you? COL. MORD: Good idea! DEATH: Well, there is no shame in that. J. KIDDING: Everyone suffers. Can you lend me your cat? T. BURKULAR: I don’t know, sir. I don’t follow political issues .

What She Left

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I'm on Cloud 9.

Luminous Nights, 3

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She also, wearing the requisite Hawaiian lei in this naked wedding photograph, but her low-swung breasts were hanging all the way down to her navel. Her navel itself appeared to be about as round and deep as a shot glass. There was this smear of gaudy flu

Superman and the Best Vacuum Cleaner Salesman in New York City

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I remember driving to New York City the summer of 1964, just before I met you. That was the very first time I ever smoked a joint. In those days it was happy dope. We got high and everything seemed so funny! Those were the days! I drove into the city

Everyone... out

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The room is cold, like an icy bath. Enough to make Earl's testicles shrivel up in fear. He could hear the angry children outside act out a primeval play, where it sounded like bones were being slammed into rocks with clumsy small hands. The edge of the table…

He Dreams of a Small Boat at Sea

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He dreams again of ocean devoid of shore

The Transportation of Hens

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Sixteen hundred hens / suffocated / during the collection

Out Walked Bud: The Manic Life and Obscure Death of Bud Powell

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From the opening bars that conjure up the sounds of European auto horns, "Parisian Thoroughfare" is as light as French pastry, as free and airy as a skirt blown by the wind.

Grateful

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What I had liked about Harvard before it showed itself in psychocareerist TV appearances and lid-down disingenuous printed psychotopical drills for maintaining crass privilege was the description online of its linguistics department.

Epicure

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Edwin was the last thing I bought. With his uneven eyes and curious leg stumps, he was a must-have. When I showed Edwin to my housemates he was hugged many times, and praised as though he was real. Knowing my housemates, Edwin may have saved some lives…

Perils of Poetry in a Pandemic

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...the bulk of poets are amateurs.

how to find the gold-capped ocean

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I didn’t know how to find the gold-capped ocean. How was I supposed to know where it was? I only knew you did not want or expect me to follow you there, where the orifice to everything withers, including my heart. Openings from the rivers drying in the

step martyr

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my heartis a brokenstandpipefanningcity water cayenneacross sidewalksgutters ripple redover fast food bagsand cigarette buttsover the feetof priests and pit bullsover the handsof drunksand babiesand into the mouthsof ratsand raconteurs you never oughtadrink…

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.

Cocktail Hour

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The bullet went past his right ear and a little star appeared, twinkling in the mirror, a small hole in its middle, before the boom of the shot filled up the bar. He put his straight up Grey Goose martini down on the bar hard enough so th

Illumination,with grace

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Jerry peered out into the dark landscape with no fear left.