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The Making of Mermaids

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You ran so quickly for a while no one could find you. Finally, you sent us a report. You had retreated to the sea, you had your legs stitched together, you became a mermaid and were applying to join the school.

The Oscars

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Her husband goes hard on her. No blushes--he goes hard all over, not just in the assumed area. He could have Blip! disappeared instead, how would his wife have liked that? He has to make a choice, his captors are waiting, they don't have time, that is to…

December 17

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When she finally arrived it was like a cello playing inside me

The Hunter

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When the boy held the rifle’s sights on a living creature, his breath stilled and his heartbeat swimming in his ears, his father seemed close.

Mine

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My father was dating already. Her name was Shelly. She had a man-like body, buck teeth and red hair, a big forehead. I don't know what bog she climbed out of. She wanted to fill in for my mother, but I locked her out of my room. I just wanted to be sad and hold…

MIG Arrangement

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I do not think it good that you, any of you, know what I mean when I say “MIG arrangement.”

Prowl Car

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Mischief / has marked the bone marauders for doom.

Larger Than Life

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She told me one way to deal with it would be to put everything in a box and burn it.

On A Carport in Bethlehem

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I can hear soft rain

The Good Old Days

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What she didn't tell me was that her brother Carl got fried during an electrical storm.

Make Not Thy Head a Grave

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the emergence of the Beatles and the Vietnam War sad human electricity no buzz of any wheel

Mugabe Western

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They were self-contained, two nymphs in a photo booth. Maria wanted something different—love to spread across her face like a wide smile, a certain grace. Sometimes she had found love like that at parties.

A Fine Life

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It's really not too bad. The personI am was me. We laughed insidetheir sacred places at all the monieswell spent. We walked in the gardenswithout any shoes on. Not one singleflower seemed to mind. And now it'sa forgotten mess or so I imagine.I'd rather you think about…

Matisse, in the Jardin des Tuileries, 1904

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The World's Worst Mime stood there next to the iron carousel, portraying something, and the crowd understood none of it, except that whatever thing he was trying to portray was not being portrayed well at all.

Jimmy's Glass Eye

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We weren't supposed to talk about Jimmy's glass eye. We just had to watch it stare at us all wonkie, without knowing a thing about it.

Irreversible Dad

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"It's irreversible."

Gray Lizard

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He can’t enlarge the rock—/ can only find its safest distance

The Whore

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The man and the whore lay in bed together. It was a cold night and they were warmed by the heat beneath the…

Kissing In a Warm Car

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Then I did the same to you, inhaling your scent which was one thing at your hairline and another at your collarbone.

Nightmares from the Wanted Section

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WANTED: a Muse. Former Special Forces solider turned poet seeking artistic inspiration. Brunettes preferred but blondes will not be turned away; gingers, however, are out of the question. Must have a voice that sounds like money, a self-destructive tem

Tractors

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Beneath their feet bedrock stretched a hundred miles

If I Felt

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If I felt like reading a book then I would read a book

BLIND MAN

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fire, fire

Exhumation

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the poems/ we never got to will remain,

Witness

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Someone must bear witness// at a comfortable remove.

In A-B-C Order

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When she was nineteen, she began to brew a baby in her belly. She named it, and sang to it, and organized the leftover hand-me-downs that hadn't been worn ragged through by the first seven sets of recipients.

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?"