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Red Line

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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 …

The Finger of Love

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Wasn’t that you Giving me the finger Or was it just A dead ringer For the finger of love? Finger of love Finger of love Did you find someone’s dog do On your doorstep last night Something didn’t smell right In the middle of the night

The Andy Warhol Experience

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Whenever I go shopping, I am trying my best not to be overwhelmed by an Andy Warhol experience. This is not like your typical Orwellian Big Brother experience, like when enormous Chairman Mao posters appear out of nowhere, keeping an eye

Shorondra Reynolds

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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

durations of flamenco

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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.

The Year in Blogging: More Than Just Sonny Tufts

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1,919 followers in 105 countries come to this site every day looking for breaking news on the number of white kittens promoters are required to provide Mariah Carey at each concert.

Dateline: Dumbass

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Take a ride past Larry Crane’s 'Jackpot!' recording studio — right here! in the neighborhood! where Sleater-Kinney recorded 'One Beat' and Elliott Smith 'either/or' and Sarah Dougher 'The Walls Ablaze!' woo hoo! — and the kids are singing karaoke.

The Parade Route

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There will be no more internal birds like singing clocks, not like the lovely ones I know and still look forward to hearing, ringing like little bells in the church y belfry of the newly sprouting mornings to come, not unless the birds…

the break up

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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

From the Writer's Diary

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I must pause in his discourse to step outside and relieve myself...

Existential Weather Report

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I had a moment of clear inter-species ideation...

up to our hips

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This is what we will remember of each other. Right here. Another night where we prepare ourselves, as the full moon rises through the murky blue and smoke-filled sky, where the rose mist simmers above the land. And you are out there, somewhere. Only our

Another dead chicken

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in the chicken house this morning. The second one this week. I carry the stiff hen out to the back pasture

lest we bury us

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this disc barely spins the jangle of spurs/how long does one revolution take?

Existential Weather Report (Election Day 2020)

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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.

The Numerous Uses of the Middle Finger

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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

Pictures of False Hope

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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

News from a Distant Relative

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(Suddenly, too lazy to pull even one title from his shelves, he thought: if it's now the “Dao De Jing”, shouldn't it also now be the “I Jing”? Alas, he was no translator.)

Holden Caulfield and his Crummy Band

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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

Van Gogh’s Ear

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A drunken evening, both men soused and twitchy. An argument ensues with Yellow House roommate Paul Gauguin. The two dissing each other’s work like clicking beetles

Excuse Me, There’s Some Suspicious Activity In the Men’s Room?

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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

Stingray

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My teeth chew out onrubber sparkle handle fromSting ray bicycleSchwinnpants downrush of cars going byOld Cutler Roadclutch of my stomachmy balls black and bluebruisedby the bicycle chain and when I was punched, in the facewhile riding red dreamSchwinn Sting…

Birth

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In the early days of the atmosphere there was less dirt, and the rain had trouble falling. There were no stoplights on earth, only rivers of white light. Early man and birds collided in the upper air, because everything was clear and light like a feather.

The Turkey and the Tall Tree

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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…

Five Million Yen: Chapter 14

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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.

having a bad day

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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

You Couldn't Pay For a Review This Good, But I Did

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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.

some god

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I remember a painting of a young girl (this could have been me) who had just given birth. She was almost smiling while she slept. Her upper lip was violet with exhaustion. One hand left up behind her head where it was thrown during the exertion of birth

You Better Quit Your Runnin' Around

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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

Express Lane

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The Guy Behind Me only had one item. And he looked too young to fully grasp Loneliness.