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Self-Portrait of Someone Else (excerpt)

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Recently I think I became someone else. When the alarm clock rings in the morning, it sounds sharper than usual; getting up, my feet don't seem to quite touch the floor; looking into my bathroom mirror, my face seems to be melting, sliding, my eyes dri

Fuck Men!

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I talk wands and magic and how women aren't supposed to care, but I do, and she talks length and girth. Her fiancé has neither, she makes an illustration with her pinky and says that if they don't marry within the year, she's dumping his ass and we

He Holds an Expired Visa and a Monday Grudge

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Somehow the world survives

Shadow Man

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Words are not like bricks. The neighborhood flowers from within the rituals that enframe the drinking of a macchiato in a café. Now it hovers over the page.

Bad Attitude

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Start with a long look down the alley, a small hoodied figure turning in.

Valentine's Day: Say it with Chickens

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Love at first sight? Not for me.

Wings

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The trouble began in October, when Ava, an embittered receptionist who worked at a small museum housed in a five-story Westside brownstone, discovered that the floors were littered with enormous grey feathers

At Play in the Fields of the Lord

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Rothko explored horizons,/ blurring figure and ground/ by omitting the figure.

Hands of a City

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On the usefulness of hands.

What the Father Said

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At night, instead of sleep, there were new and secret pleasures. Half-awake lessons in dexterity, in the limber material of human life.

Obituary

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Patrick Savage, who has died aged 29, was a poker player fast on his way to becoming a cult figure in the music scene.

Time

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Tell Bono I want my seventy bucks back.

Turtle Summer

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He was her summer fling, the first cock to crow when the sun rose over her tequila smile.

Half a Lotus

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An Ayurvedic astrologer tells her that she is a child of India. Is a girl born in Indiana a mistake of just two letters on a Scrabble board?

The Front Window at Starbucks, NYC

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His eyes drift over the body of every woman who enters Starbucks, even though he’s old enough to be their father or grandfather, still his eyes are aware of every shape passing by, refusing to let go, and die. Maybe they’re speaking Polish or

Without Consent

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You never thought you were capable of rape.

There's No Crying in Poetry

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There’s / no crying in poetry!” says Coach / Bukowski

Training Exercise

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The other day I’m in the backyard with one of my kids, doing what he’s calling a training exercise, which is basically the two of us with flashlights, shinning the beams over the grass and up into the night to see what we can see.

Non-Stop Service

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Please direct your attention to the flight attendants as they demonstrate the safety features of this aircraft.

Channel Zero

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A killer enters the room. No one notices, and the show goes on.

Rule Out Euthymia

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In her belief that Juni is lucky, Jade eases the horrors our mother suffers at night, not because Juni is stuck in a physical passion, but because the whole family and whole groups of strangers know what Juni is doing for sex.

a night on the f'naut

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with images overflowing with delicate thought scenes with nightmarish wet dreams

Poets House, NYC (revised)

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Oh, you can’t stay, your poetry/ Is still out in the world, maybe when you die/Your volumes will make their way/Not just here but everywhere

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 19

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His wings were down when he got into the truck. It was a used UPS truck we’d bought from someone in Berkeley, and we painted out the letter “S,” so that it just read “UP.”

The New Meow

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I'm delighted to report that I've come up with my own school of thought. It's called, "Dress Like a Cat Until You Get What You Want."

Phantasmagoria

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I sit in my chemise like a forgotten rag doll on the stool before my vanity. My body is postured towards nothing in particular, my gaze keeps returning to vacant; it’s far preferable to any fixed sight it could find.

Don't Wash, Don't Tell

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Butch the Labradoodle sets some necessary boundaries.

The MacGowans Flee West

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Some believe the Scots were encouraged to emigrate, hired guns as it were, to Ireland to civilize that population. If that's the case, we would see it as another evil English trick. In any case, we MacGowans are Scots Irish and Protestant.

Acceptance is to her a phenomenon

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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.

moving forward

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see this:/ ink-stained paper/ littering miles