1984 17 10
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When I squint at her from across the table I can see the waveforms created by her carrier signal.
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1984 1 1
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. . . hands before your face, heart without blood . . .
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1984 2 0
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Left, I see parkland and cyclists and sun. Right: picnic blankets, naked men and lunchtime assignations.
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1984 1 1
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an old Black woman, a sequined black cap poised on the left of her crown of black infused gray hair. A gray wool shawl that seemed to perfectly match her hair's color wrapped her all the way down to her hips, where a battered pair of blue jeans rested
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1984 13 6
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You are a boy with a birthday bike smiling like our son, standing in a photograph surrounded by other sons, who turn rocks over and over, who keep snakes in plastic bread bags, who find the bones of something wild in the woods. You smile that way still.
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1983 2 1
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On the first day of autumn, in the rear courtyard of the Léger estate, Yvette Mongrain was scrubbing down the glass tables and wrought iron chairs that had been trucked in from Paris the morning before and arranged across the flagstones.
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1983 9 6
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Wish you weren't here,
Moon man in your cargo shorts.
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1983 7 6
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85% extra dark cocoa:/biting into bitter darkness
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1982 2 0
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According to the weatherman's morning forecast it was supposed to be a dark and stormy night. Unfortunately for Doctor Von Übel the weather had other things in mind...
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1982 10 9
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I hear the slightly scratched voice of Joan Baez coming from
the record player singing about the junipers in the pale moonlight,
applause erupting like hailstone on a corrugated iron roof.
I am singing back through the bedroom wall,
wishing the
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1982 0 0
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Oryn woke up in her desk. Sweat trickled from her forehead. Staring at her notepad, with her latest calculation, she forgot to go home. Her thoughts of Alysia calmed for now, but still lingered from her dreams.
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1982 9 2
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“Dad’s a dick,” my sister said. I nodded. He threw $20 on the candy counter for one small bag of popcorn and told the girl to keep the change.
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1982 1 0
|
Forever
Implies
To my recycled soul
That it is achievable
If only I stretch myself
Towards it
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1982 13 8
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The subway train pulled up and I shuffled on board.
I announced to the whole subway car: “I’m a poet.”
And that was all I needed to do. It was like a miracle.
Someone got up immediately and gave me her seat.
People got in an orderly line and began
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1981 43 22
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At first when she walked in, I thought she looked like a wet dog. Then after a minute, I’m trying to wrap my mind around how perfect she is.
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1981 13 4
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I was desperate for a social life but I couldn’t go out because I was too embarrassed to smile.
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1981 6 2
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1980 25 17
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Whole frogs are/
too difficult.
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1980 22 16
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My mother used to say she'll be just like you and you‘ll deserve it. I was a Punk Rocker. A rebel. Emily worries about things like grades and sports. She's on the soccer team. I got stoned under the bleachers. Emily, is a good kid. …
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1980 26 20
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People go through life all the time with only one kidney, or with some of their female-parts removed.
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1980 14 7
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You were given blame for action as experience by cause and effect now. If you take apart blame and even forgiveness is too rigid. She thinks of that purpose as to give men sexual destiny.
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1980 10 7
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Carthage, Rome subdued:/itself, Rome never long tamed./Memento mori.
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1979 25 5
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" Not a day goes by/ that isn't stabbed with common sorrow"--Maurice Manning Crazy's alright by me if it's a harmless plea for some little sanity, or unavoidable by birth but it just won't do for tricks. Like say I go over there right…
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1979 8 3
|
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1979 1 1
|
My wife and I were sitting at the bar at Brennan’s down on 4th Street one night, drinking too much without eating. Geary had convinced us to come down there with him, for two reasons. One, to give us the lowdown on where to stay and what to do in New Yo
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1979 12 5
|
He now knew the impossible to be possible.
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1979 16 10
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I could have written her as is with long bushy hair, skinned knees, overhauls, blueberry stains on her fingers and teeth because she eats them too much. I love her better this way, blueberry-stained and wild....
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1979 8 4
|
... we both know how we go to fresh air like fish, gasping.
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1978 15 13
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Poets who thrum jirble and thwack
Poets who thrum eat quorn with raw swamms
Poets who thrum are eristic (not shambolic)
Poets who thrum deliciate unto kench when they freck
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1978 1 0
|
Daddy? Yes, hun. What do you think about life? Did you ask your mother? I'm asking you. (lowers newspaper) Well, (squinting eyes) life gives you so much pumpkin. ! and (like a whip) and..? (brows almost touching the hairline)…
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