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No Exit

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The bar was packed. Fascinated, Tom watched the shenanigans going on around him.

Why No One Writes Epics Anymore

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No one writes epics anymore. Why? Perhaps it's because we no longer share mythologies. Once there was a shepherd, and now there is a Google bus loaded with pricks. Yes, you say, but they are good at math. Each and every one of them. And this is true. I envy them…

I Am

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When I was a boy, I always wondered if Dad were black. No one in our small town looked like Dad. He had the thick features of an Arab. If he let his hair grow, it piled up in messy loafs on his head. Of course, I never asked Dad about any of this. I wasn'

Lifetime

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"Why didn't they just elevate the drug levels and kill her off like that?"

All Of These Eyes.....

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Untitled

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the colors of the night

Safe

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Safe does not ride horses at sunsetSnorkel in MolokaiRaft down a swollen river.It does not steal kisses in a darkened theaterTouch the inside of a thigh under a restaurant table.Safe does not declare war.It chooses dinner every night at sixMass every SundayConfession once a…

A Boy Named Suicide

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Came to admire Kiyoko Matsumoto. Japanese. Aged 19. Lesbian. 1933. Jumped into a volcano.

far outside

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I'm staying in swinging all night Hell not just all night but every night I can possibly sink my teeth into

Blood on Her Hands

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Only blood I got on me was pulling him over onto my seat when I got out.

Holiday Moons

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Not quite full, but bright,/ December 23rd.__ A waning moon for New Year’s Day-/ Portent?

The Chihuahua Cure

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It came from the animal shelter, seizing and shivering, with eyes almost bigger than its head. Eyes that followed Pearl like it couldn’t stuff the whole picture of her in its tiny skull.

The World Has Let Me Down

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My mother and I are close We talk like friends I tell her about people I'm dating She gets excited for me And she asks how it's going When I tell her I think I'm gay She says nothing She does not ask about the woman I am seeing She does not ask how I am doing …

Notes to the Dead

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The kind of poem poets write and read. I mean, hey I was feelin’ it HARD at 3:24 am, and this is what spilled out.

A Borrowed Barrow

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It was a battered, creaky, rickety old thing, this wheelbarrow. It had two wooden handles with cracks running through the wood, a fat rubber wheel and a deep tray encrusted with the mud and plaster and grout that it had transported through decades of heavy use. Based on…

The Naming of Girls

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I sneak glances of her unhooking the clasp, taking it off, so that her back is bare, and I can see the muscles, the bones underneath move as she puts the new one on...

Sleeping on Route 110

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in the deep dark of a 2 a.m. atmosphere

The Sunlight of the Mind

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The nerves are birds that guide us to feeling the loop and lift of reverie.

The Red Slit

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Kitchen. sandwich. wife. daughter.

Big Heater

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they got some heat here in the West

the origin of perfume

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I see young girls in their white summer dresses and remember how I was like that, light youth that barely touched the ground. Screwing and unscrewing the lid of a salt shaker (sitting at a table.) Swinging a shoe off the tip of my toes. Rubbing a foot u

Assiduity Twenty Three

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The outside world will intrude . . .

Not If, But When

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She tells me I have to face the fact that I have the heart of the Tin Man. I know the story. He had none. She is very sensitive and I have to measure my remarks because words bruise her so easily. So, I…

One Foot in front of the Other

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And soon you'll be walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking and walking

Gehryspeak

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IN nature, it's hard to find a straight line. Stand on a beach. Look out to sea. There out far you might think you see a line where the sky comes down to join. Where two fields of blue meet. But where you're not quite sure for the line is a blur there. You…

John Doe's Jeans

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In the panic following news of my motorcycle crash, my honey fled the house without coat or wallet, and now, nearly midnight, we don’t even have cab fare home.

Your Move, Blattarian!

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Scavenge at that address only if you feel possessed of great courage, a profound faith in resurrection or reincarnation, or an impatient desire for a premature date with certain death.

Whistler's Mother

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Whistler pounded a nuanced nail, into our inferior foreheads.

Bridges Are a Lot Like Long Corridors

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Nothing good ever waits at the end of a long corridor.

I Am Not A Careful Reader

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What's the weirdest thing you've ever used as a bookmark? I work in a library. I've seen that, and more.