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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…

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

It’s Real TV, Uncle Remus

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We’re lost in a brambly aberration, thorny tangles of a wacky nation.

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.)

Finals Week

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Before I could reach the physical bar, four rounds of shots were fired. Desperately, little boys spooged ounces about in every direction. They only knew one form of celebration, mating ritual roulette.

Wandering Kisses

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Your wandering kisses entered my soul Then my flesh, then my holes You filled them all Like a Norwegian hall Like a Swedish sailor Drunk with ale You fell inside me And you’re falling still It was a thrill I can’t sit still I got a chi

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.

The Day Felt

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Hoverboard plate glass of being upon within, splay palsy mothership. Sparks drift from beneath crouched workman's butt in front of a building that was ours last week. Tents with eclectic offerings pitched along thoroughfares winding through neighborhoods under dim…

lest we bury us

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

From the Writer's Diary

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

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

Express Lane

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

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.

You're Never Going to Break My Heart

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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…

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…

Puppet ABC - 2

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I clearly see the squirrels of negativity all around me, ladies & gentlemen. I sensed they were there filling in the blank spaces as I read down the page, prior to arriving at the meaning of everything.

But the Heart Loves Chaos

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The mind likes logic, but the heart loves chaos. The light is always on in Reality, isn’t it? Maybe I sought you out to make sense of my life, I don’t know. Maybe I wanted some sense that you were still how I remembered you (at least a little of you tha

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

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

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

living alone now

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Oh, yeah, that's me, the girl in the blue dress, the girl with short blond hair. Slight smile occasionally passing over her face, sitting at the café table, waiting patiently for the semi-famous rock star to show and buy a house. Brown and sea-green

A Tribute To “Tornado At The Club,” From Evan S. Connell’s MRS. BRIDGE

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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.

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 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

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

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

Snacking Sneak

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He was sitting in the library, slipping the pistachios nuts between his wet lips.

An Idiot is Never Worth Your Time or More Mythomania for Your Buck An Idiot is Never Worth Your Time or More Mythomania for

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"It's a true saying then, that 'it's never worth while speakingto an idiot,'" answered Smerdyakov firmly, looking significantlyat Myshkin." - Dostoevsky "Why are you telling everyone that you are going to Tchermashnya, so that you think you're going to Moscow, when you…

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

It was a Dark and Stormy Night

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One of his big failings was getting pissed off about things behaving badly but not troubling to immediately fix them. He was working on being more prompt.