6501712
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Matt was among those rare creatures; an ideal kind of reader ...
|
64842
|
Some tough young punk with dreadlocks
Was walking down the sidewalk while texting
And got frightened when he was buzzed
By a hummingbird
Saying “oh shit”
He ducked, but then looked all around
To make sure no one saw him
Of course, I wa
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64820
|
Cataclysm was a bustling city
right across the river from Orgasm.
|
647157
|
In one of the cartoons I watched as a child, Popeye the Sailor gives Olive Oyl a bouquet of flowers. She is thrilled, he walks on air, thinking they will marry. His one-eyed heroism is soon challenged by Bluto however, who pours cement into Popeye's bath. It goes…
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64774
|
All along scared of the lovesickness finding me. I'm not proud of sending that sweet choir on its way without a kind word chopped into its begging cup. Who cares? I'm scared. The problem is this house; it's sad. I notice when someone floats…
|
64740
|
It has been more than three decades since I returned to work from a noon union meeting to find myself, along with about twenty others, locked out of the printing plant where we worked.
|
64710
|
When informed that the returning celebrity is not Gary Puckett but Bob Dylan, the world-renowned singer-songwriter, Sklarski draws a blank. “Never heard of him,” he says as he takes off in his pick-up truck.
|
64765
|
Before Andromeda can swallow us
expand our stars...
|
64631
|
—Francesco, did you come to bed last night?
|
64622
|
You walked into the dream world
That divides us from each other
And removed your clothes
And there was no specific language
For orgasm there
It was all multilingual
They were white and fluffy like new clouds
Like notes written on the bars
|
64685
|
I ate a tuna salad sandwich for lunch.
|
64600
|
The dog catcher appeared to be trolling the neighborhood in his doggy death van.
|
64620
|
In my dream I am the showy leaf, and you are the stem and you are the strength. I am the leaf turning colors, my face flushed, the blonde hairs at my neck, and there is the deep carnal twisting around your stem that sends me floating to the ceiling over
|
64622
|
The body receives its embrace but / only by the anti-body.
|
64576
|
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…
|
64511
|
|
645116
|
" If you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stomping on a human face--forever." 1984, George Orwell
|
64542
|
What happens in life when no one is watching?
|
645158
|
angels and lambs
drunkards and whores
|
64410
|
TW: Self-harm. I wanted to write a mental health essay that wasn't all rah! rah! and with as little sentimentality as possible. Out of everything I've published, I've gotten the most feedback from this--people telling me it helped them understand a loved one better, etc.…
|
64465
|
I was right to fear the God of my father
He is a monster.
|
64443
|
From decade to decade, editorial opinion swings and sways as to whether the fault of volubility resides chiefly with the practitioner or with the lawless company he keeps.
|
64421
|
Details may be missing from our lives, but you can fill them in any time you want. Fill up the cup again with me. Come in and be warm, anytime you want. Wine, women, song, whatever. I sat on the curb once, in Mexico, saying, “Give me your salads, your o
|
64400
|
Luke Warm and the Sole Contenders.
Door Odor Ant.
Release My Pajamas!
Behemoth Pterodactyls.
Dragon Wagons.
Mucked Up.
The Gosspinator.
Italian Film Director.
Summer Dress.
Unsolicited Advice.
Golden Calf.
The Gum-Chewin Gurus.…
|
64411
|
My single sculling boat was not made to take the impact of a pickup.
|
64383
|
Winter offers pitting salty sand clouds
|
643117
|
Sometimes all that’s/
left is pissing
|
64310
|
what i will always remember of you is of that singular sunday / when a black lock of hair brushed against your cheek
|
64221
|
They called him Hank. We piled in a car and drove up from Irvine to his little bungalow apartment on DeLongpre near Hollywood Blvd. for a collating party for this Mag he started with Neely called “Laugh Literary and Man the Humping Guns.” No shit, that wa
|
64254
|
The first thing I realized I was hearing when I woke up from the land of nowhere was the brittle sounds of little frozen rods of rain crashing into the sliding glass porch doors relentlessly and cracking into tiny shards of split piles in…
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