932 3 3
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They’ve got sketches for
The invention of the middle finger
At the Museum for
The Gathering Clouds of Innocence
So, why not go there and get a feeling
For the meaning behind everything?
Okay, here’s the truth
I was so busy giving people th
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The train it was Quiet people asleep It was 4:30 am. I lost her face with the wind. She never gave me her I never asked for her Number she …
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We were busy painting pictures of False Hope
on the face of Reality.
Tattoos really.
But they faded with time.
And I now know this:
Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be.
I saw an older writer in a slouched-down Fedora,
gray beard and long sc
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When Shorondra Reynolds was a baby we lived in a Baltimore brownstone on the edge of Pigtown. Just me and my mother, when there were no single mothers, just Adele’s mother or Mary’s mama, or Kiki’s madear and their like. It was a time when a five year-old
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At step blinding speed we all alight somewhere in the world
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Later, at home, on the internet, I assemble fragments of street celebrations from cities one coast to the other. I watch them and listen in the compressed fidelity of computer speakers. How strangely things feel.
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He looked for Arris among the patrons. There were a few artist types and professional drinkers at the bar. Only two tables had customers. Arris was not among them.
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I’d been listening to the radio. Tornado watch! Heading this way! 75 miles per hour! I don’t like to alarm the guests; a false alarm to these people could cost my job, but so could ignoring real danger.
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The bench was set by the waterMarbleAnd dedicated to a man etched his name,the year he was born,and the year he died. She had been suffering from a dark narcolepsythat reflected off the cloudsa lightening bolt energylike a screwturn screw and wrench.Door…
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I had a moment of clear inter-species ideation...
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I’ve previously tried the old-fashioned route to get my books reviewed, calling up editors, asking friends who work at newspapers and magazines to put in a good word for me, stalking . . . I mean, contacting freelancers.
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Someone has locked themselves in the large stall
They’re smoking one cigarette after another
And pulling long stretches of toilet paper off the rolls
God only knows for what purpose
And yelling for anyone who’s outside the stall
To go get them
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The surveyor began at the mouth of the Klamath and worked his way toward the mining camp. He'd expected to find a trail, but for most of the way he hacked through dense underbrush. The river shrubs clambered into the water, just skimming its surface. There were…
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The heart has always been on the sleeve Tonya really needed a heartShe was too young to knowNever forgetting itMichele found it in paradiseBut didn't know what to do with itWatched it fade awayBobbi could have easily had it foreverBut left it on the…
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930 5 1
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I sit in a small office amongst a huge pile of letters picking out individuals and arranging them on a big square made of something like paraffin
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They had been part of the world for as long as he knew, but they were still an enigma to Timothy. They had an origin but he did not know what it was or what they were. They were both the source and the outcome. They generated and spread the information.
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We went east. It wasn't all that easy, but easier than staying where we were, unable to freely move or give birth to anything brand new. We went east insearch of the mysterious faraway beginnings of a mythical wild west. We went east becauseit…
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Well I, for one, knew immediately what these great muffled sobs were coming from the parking lot behind our apartment complex. This stud named Clint was dumping one of his girlfriends, again. Exactly how many were there? Could have been a dozen, for all
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927 0 0
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Popping in to buy a tire gauge.
Stumbling, drunk, on your way to buy cigarettes with two cops coming in behind you.
You hold the door.
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amphibians returning to the scene of the crime
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In the summer of '68 my father persuaded me to go visit my grandparents on their farm in North Dakota. I had long hair and dressed like a French symbolist outlaw. Took the train to Minot, spent the night in a hotel (watching Your Cheatin' Heart, movie about Hank…
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thus is life conjured with music: human life / with human music human souls human earth, / hot souls the cherished fruit of the hot earth beneath.
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Holden Caulfield starts a band call Crummy
He’s jumping around the stage swearing at everything, every damned thing
in his oversized raincoat that he never ever takes off for any reason
including when there’s the slightest possibility of having sex
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Licking bowl and spoon taste and foretaste follow.
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I remember it was late at night
I was with
Johnny Appleseed’s younger brother
Bruce
Bruce Appleseed
He was the lead singer for the band
Fake Moustache
Turns out he was just a bum
Set on vibrate
Who’d bought a 10-gallon hat once
But h
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Like any lovable lump of hidden rocks, these hills she breathes life into, blinking existence, are all well worth jumping up and over again and again. Just ask the little kids. Their endless landscape of discovery…
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-There are a lot of guys would pay cash money to be in his position.
-Biteman, do you mean homeless and no ID, or married to Zoë Bontemps for three years?
-Both. Biteman gave a loud chortle.
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My mom said, “Carol, why are you laughing?”
And I said, “I just saw my last boyfriend and his wife, who got married six months after we broke up, and it’s funny. I mean, I just saw them. They’re in town visiting from California.”
And my mom said, “C
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Milton Berle bought a hot dog at the Stucky's snack bar once. True. I wasn't there, but I believe it.
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So, the sweet beast of idle speculation may be calling my name by memory, because I am capable of feeling, or suffering. I may be a conduit to such, because the rational soul provides the bridge. Some wild ass summoning your name, clean, uncovered, disc
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