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The Freelance Assignment

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You wanted to be a writer. Now you’re a writer.

The Ten Ox-Herding Pictures of Kaku-an

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a snowflake won’t settle on a smoking furnace; the fathers were never restless, it was always the earth that moved.

miranda

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When I was miranda and my mother Rose, ours was a skinless intimacy. miranda in Rose's womb, captured in an essence of love, anger, frustration, fear, the overwhelming stress of Rose's life heavy syrup that kept the bond between spirit and body weak and

2 empty pipes rattling with passion

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i could make swamp boys believe / under dust-sheets stiffened by ice

Play it, Sam

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...still the same old signs...

This Story is Terrible, and I Only Wrote It to Annoy You People

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[DON'T OPEN 'TIL X-MAS!]

Lip

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He watches his paralyzed left arm arc across his body, then swivel around and disappear behind his back. He does this over and over again. He's very high and it makes him laugh.

Nutrition

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I will gobble them like tiny men, missions and things to prove.

Along Came Doreen

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I didn't really know her. Yet, to me, she and her friends epitomized the local hip scene.

An MFA Creative Writing Essay Question

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7. Using Cohen's Method of Structure craft a piece of fiction featuring unexpected conflict. (12 points)

Cancer Arm

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You think about it all the time. Cancer cancer cancer. Cancer leg. Cancer arm. You've eaten too many cancer hot dogs and sausages in your life. You've gotten too many cancer sunburns. Cancer throat. Cancer head. Too much cancer sex.

A Man

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A man’s been in jail for six weeks awaiting trial. Lillian doesn’t say his name. A man kidnapped her from the grocery store parking lot. He raped her at his house, and again in the desert, chopped her hand off with an axe and left her for dead in the

Poetipedia

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. . was the earliest born of the not-so-great Pedantic Poets . . . . beleaguered by family financial crises that continued to the beginning of his life, he suffered periods of deep elation . .

Undone

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Last summer our marriage took a direct hit and crashed into a deep pit with little warning when Millicent met a Facebook man and simply left, taking up with him, presenting him with my space in her life to receive her touch and this thought perpetually gnaws away, making me…

Confessions of an I.R.A. Terrorist

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Most of us are just ordinary mutts with no gift for writing, nothing like Joyce James [or] any of those...

Testimony

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The next winter the house burned down.

Intolerable Impositions

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"She gnawed her arm off in the morning, before he woke...."

Spaghetti Woman

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She was fast as the wind and lived on air, her clothes a size 0000.

Tonight I Am The Zipper

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It’s so hard to get to know people these days. Even the social ones wall you out with politeness. Like jackknives with pearl handles in a display case.

Life Before Kant

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I doused back three Buds in the time it took him to detest a variety of subjects including the naivety of quantum physics and pregnant women.

Staring at Waves

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the waves all green and gooey, all / pommes frites, ruinous, insolent, half / fractal

Summertime

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“Mescaline occurs naturally in our bodies, you know,” I said.

At a Welsh Wedding

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He was manic, depressive, schizophrenic, bipolar, paranoid, cyclothymic, borderline, or a genius.

Adults at Home

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The afternoon my little sister won her first U.S. Open, I was also busy, having strenuous sex with David Solemn, a man I’d met earlier that morning at Dunkin Donuts. We did it on the white living room carpet in my parent’s new Connecticut house while

The Blue Bird

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The blue bird tapped at my window and pecked my crumbs. I talked to him as to a small person about the things of life, of flowers, of trees and the sky. Even at times pretending he was erudite, I questioned him about evolution and extinction. He looked at me as if he…

Boom! You're Smithereens

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Bruno Hackmann and I hung out all summer, and then Joe came back from Persia.

Wahrheit und Dichtung

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When I was eight years old, I stepped into / a snow bank in Pennsylvania and sank / in over my head

EVENING ALONE

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The gull put its foot down, stretched its wings out and swept into the salty breeze.

Dead Parental Units

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Each death a sonnet, every grief / fourteen lines.

a crushed pepsi can floats down

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These days, even God has a day job.