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Kepler On The Bus

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On the bus I sat like an ounce.

The Sky is Simply White

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The rain is no terrible epitaph

The Lost Boys

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Every day hurts, just a little, but not enough

Trust In Wolves

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All wolves, my child, want to be eaten.

From Beyond

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Someday they'll find me face-down in a puddle of ink.

Husks

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She would have moved on to the next guy in the next bar, the one who looked like danger on a stick.

The First poem.

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Then you stopped abrupt.

Clotting

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Train travel is listed as a possible cause for deep vein thrombosis, a condition that causes blood to clot in the legs. Ray did not tell me this, but I looked it up later, remembered the disability status on his Charlie Card.Baclofen is not used for the treatment of…

Physicist in love

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He saw symmetry, exquisite geometry, body and built world in harmony.

What Remains II

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Duh. It’s all the same sky. Instead I nod, and don’t say anything.

Godot Finally Shows!

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Vladimir and Estragon stood hunched at the corner of Ellis and Taylor in San Francisco's Tenderloin district. Bedraggled and spent, they looked dully around them at pretty much nothing. They could have been thirty, or maybe…

A Plea for Artists to Be Activists for Women’s Rights: Don’t Explain

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When I feel the sort of longing that sneaks up on me unawares, the sort held for the wrong kind of person that can make a woman clutch her heart in the night and sullies her blood with unwanted dreams in a thinking person's landscape, I hear, too, the deep…

Medusas

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I didn’t kiss Odgeir because I fancied him, I kissed him because I knew other people fancied him.

Loose

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pretty music

The Waves

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...some years later I heard that an old friend jumped off that bridge to her death.

A Blow to the Possible

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Tombstones are only granite symbols of a man’s life, Gus thought as he changed lanes. Children, they were the ultimate epitaph.

Roper RTW4640YQ1

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locking the door against dangerous// human curiosity and forgetfulness.

Velvet

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Bloop. Velvet's paws hit the carpet. The new man of the house is on the prowl for food, a walk. Breakfast was Rice-A-Roni; for lunch I'm serving Ring Dings. Perhaps he'd like a bite?

Test Results

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Six weeks, four thousand dollars, and twelve hundred miles later, I figured I was done with the cleansing process.

A Body Divided, 5

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Physical therapy was on the agenda every morning, first thing. A nurse would come to my room from the basement floor where they did physical therapy. She'd wrap me in a blanket and put me into a wheelchair, even though it was obvious I didn't need one to

Playing Possum

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"You're going to have to call me 'dead eye' after I get this possum."

What's It To You

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Oh I'm melting all right, into a foul vapor rising from a dead volcano, not even able to spit fire, but only cold old frozen rock like dribbles of putrid plasma.

Truth at a Bonsai Booth

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I envisioned bound feet of ancient Asian women who wore embroidered slippers that hid grotesque disfigurements.

Three New Poems

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Letter(s)The sky set itself on fire, butit really didn't make a whole lot of difference. Birdsknew not to worry any more thanusual. Trees thought and made the mostof their landscapes as a way ofbeing modern and yet timeless. It's onlypeople who suffer from too much…

Potsdamer Strasse

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She stared unbreakingly, confident, knowing; and talked so close to my face I felt cornered. But her voice was something, low and smooth.

The Death of Narrative

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“Why, you tell a story,” one young fellow said. The expression on his face said “How gauche, how passé!”

A Love Poem Written Just for You

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You wanted a love poem written just for you. / Here it is. Don’t look askance.

Dog Days

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A forgotten sprinkler is going in a neglected flower garden, water overflowing the bent wood borders and flooding the ground on either side.

Fever

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Mesmerizing, the night’s queer colors, the darkness given depth by the earth’s crystalline sheen, by a sky choked with a million fleeting prisms. In the woods surrounding the house another branch snapped, a gunshot loud crack. The echo lingered, cap

Anti

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“What do you call this place?” I didn't really want to talk much in there. For some reason, talking felt too—linear. The words seemed to have a kind of reverberation into associations that seemed somewhat meaningless at the time.”