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Laundromat Haiku

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Laundromat

Harvest

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When the hay was ripe it stirred and rippled like water.

Sequence Instead of Services on Sunday

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We reach for things and objects// made of ever smaller things and objects

Sunday Storms

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Poems reflect their poets. / Mine: ugly but loved. / It is just as well.

The Poet's Mark

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Often I want to kiss their lips Drink in every word they have written

Epitaph N+1

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We die in order to get some rest

Wedding

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The service was a disaster. The Protestants bobbed up and down. They didn't know when to stand, when to sit. I

A Certain Boy

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Every single girl, from junior to senior (and a few counselors too, I suspected), wanted to make out with Marty Miller. Did he know how drunk with attraction I was?

Robots in the Workplace

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A Boston company has created a humanoid robot named “Baxter” that performs manufacturing tasks and gets a confused look on its face when it needs something.

The Day Felt

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Hoverboard plate glass of being upon within, splay palsy mothership. Sparks drift from beneath crouched workman's butt in front of a building that was ours last week. Tents with eclectic offerings pitched along thoroughfares winding through neighborhoods under dim…

Reconstruction

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My favorite lie is that he'd escaped the South Tower before it collapsed. Smoke inhalation erased his way home. Mine's better than mother's version: a stranger hurled herself onto him. The truth is when they stopped search and rescue, mother told father, Go. Even dead, his…

House of Dreams

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The cat wound itself around Megan’s neck, its purring curling through Megan’s consciousness. She was the cat and then herself, both things at once.

Catalog of Backgrounds

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nowhere after nowhere

The Yardsale is Over and the Rain is Falling and It Is Getting Dark

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I stared deep into the sepias... And you touched my soul anew.

Tattooed Hands

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A 1960’s of walking sugar beet fields to remove the rogue bolters by hand and on other days painting the ironwork of cattle sheds with red oxide. Then a 1970’s when the self-inking explosion of tattoos on his hands and then his body began.

Lines Written in a Honda Civic

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Raymond Carver used to write poetry in his car. / Tonight, I tried it too. / I have a car like Raymond Carver / but cannot write poetry like Raymond Carver. / The car isn’t enough.

Haiku For My Old Neighbour

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Old man lives next door

To My First Crush

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But I came back around, after Robert Kennedy got shot, with one hand up your skirt and the other on the gear shift...

COSMOGONY

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I am sitting on our porch in the middle of the night. I can't sleep. The stars look like runway lights. Out of boredom, I reach out my hand to connect the distant dots. The tip of my finger hits…

The Day the Internet Disappeared

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Myrna woke up with a start and sensed a strange silence in the air. She quickly flipped on an electric switch and when the lights came on she breathed a sigh of relief. Dawn was just breaking so she went back to bed and pulled the comforter over her head.

The Vitality of Stones

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we can’t hear the hum/ and the heat is imperceptible.

My VaJayJay, The Homing Pigeon

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"The problem is, sometimes my pigeon wants to fly somewhere new- to the beach or south for winter. Other times, my pigeon wants to steal someone else’s lunch or picnic with a stranger’s leftovers. Often, my pigeon wants a good show and some freedom, to be

Drunk Sonnet (for Meg Tuite)

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perjured like a fickle impulse

Desire

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Dark morning sleet whitecrusts the world once more, shrouds remains of January thaw:

Mississippi Jesus

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"How the fucks he drivin' like that?"

Lose the Baggage

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I could be dead wrong.

Salt and Light

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As clever as clean bed sheets

blanck (1?)

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① / empty space / not black / not white / not noise / blanck

Falling

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Sometimes when I fall I see a ...

Abundance

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A young woman in shorts removes her sunglasses, putting them on top of her head in order to study a little girl sitting on her father’s lap on the bus. “I want to get me one of those,” she’s says, smiling. Dark eyes, her dark hair wet and hangin