1991 5 5
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Ishpeming straddles Lake Superior to Marathon, reaches into the water, pulls out a clump of frozen hotdogs, breaks them apart one by one, rolls them between its fingers, heats them on the thigh of its corduroy pants, and throws them into the sky. Comets t
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1991 4 4
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Alma Tucker settled into middle age with the comfort that escapes most women. Her festival queen days gone. Along with her wispy waist and cherry blond hair, replaced by broader curves and graying tresses. She was content with the way age had changed her
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1991 10 9
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"Why didn't you tell me it was Halloween?" he asked. She shook her head. The doorbell rang.
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1991 0 0
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The corpse lay silently in his open casket. Dressed in the finest silken suit. Italian. Rubber skin pulled over his bones. Arms folded in eternal prayer.
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1991 27 18
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. . . there is nothing so selfish as sleep.
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1991 12 6
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The tadpoles flipped on the brown mud bottom. She dipped one out and held it near, seeing it in her belly, shaping arms and feet and a small, blond head. She set it back and stood, breasts out, arms up. The ducks in the weed, eyes hard like hungry boys, waited for bread.…
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1990 16 9
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1990 6 4
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In grief, I'd ride a slow train there with you, /
one hand in yours and one hand on the rail,
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1990 2 1
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Six weeks, four thousand dollars, and twelve hundred miles later, I figured I was done with the cleansing process.
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1990 17 7
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You have transformed me into an aimless, sleepless wraith...
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1990 16 15
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lost in a taxi cab, 4:30 am
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1989 15 7
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My editor even said so: “Ralph, the Karmann Ghia is the only car for Henry. The only one he could have possibly driven.”
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1989 0 0
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[continued from part one...]After sweeps, my schoolwork started to slip. I had trouble paying attention in class, and my workbooks and tests came back from the teacher marked in ketchup red ink. I had always been a good student, and this academic…
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1989 2 1
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“The Boy from Thuringia” is part of a series of stories collectively called The History of Adoption. In it, a middle-aged man sets out rather obsessively to write a comprehensive history of the adopted child. In his attempts to finally begin this im
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1989 2 2
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"You're going to have to call me 'dead eye' after I get this possum."
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1988 0 0
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A human cop and a cyborg detective team up to solve a case. A sci-fi-pulp-noir-detective story.
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1988 6 3
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No flinch, no stretch, no letting the cook get all golden about the chopping block.
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1988 18 9
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1988 3 1
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"Special delivery for a friend?" he asked. "Postcards are a wonderful thing. All people want to do nowadays is send e-mails. But what's better than putting a postcard on the fridge?"
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1987 19 8
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He stared at the mirror, his hair looked chewed up–severed by a miniature lawnmower.
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1987 6 4
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Riding in a pick-up-truck,
the radio wailing
some 'love em and leave em" country song,
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1987 13 9
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He saw symmetry, exquisite geometry, body and built world in harmony.
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1986 12 11
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Save the whales. Save the dolphins. Save the bored housewives. Save my hands, so often cupped over the sorrow in being alive. Save the beautiful made-up cherries of delight I feel everywhere in your presence. Save the sprawling…
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1986 2 1
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I built a house in the middle of the ocean. I used sunlight for nails. Wind for wood. Stars for chandeliers, the moon for a doorknob.
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1986 24 11
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whistling some blithering tune, trotting around the kitchen in his underwear with his ribs, a long row of meatless tragedies that screamed for something other than the meal he was making.
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1986 4 3
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A great doubt had shut out the light inside us, but each of us called for our lover at the end, and she was generous. Carrying us along inside her over vast distances, chilling our soul with sudden terrible flashes of light.
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1985 18 10
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She was a forward-motion girl. She never bothered to learn to walk as a baby. Instead, she stood up and ran.
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1985 0 0
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The road that passed through the swamp near where the cemetery stood, that is, the road that passed by the cemetery that stood near where the swamp lay—but no, that’s not the case, because that’s not the same road. If I’d been on THAT road—
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1985 6 5
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I. Sweet Anthill The anthill is in front of my house. It started with a cupcake I dropped on the ground, frosting first. The ants started to congregate, carrying sprinkles and cake crumbs into the deep sidewalk crack. A week…
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1985 23 15
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“Why, you tell a story,” one young fellow said. The expression on his face said “How gauche, how passé!”
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