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Old Church Slavonic

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Because it seems never to be beginning, always picking up in the middle with it’s long resonant tones, which themselves begin as if they’ve always been. Maybe that’s why we love old, sacred music. And by we I, of course, mean my two-year-old Charlie and m

MS Fragments Retrieved from a Garbage Disposal

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Mrs. Death was walking in mountains where everything around was still. Mr. Death? —in another hemisphere, wandering (last she’d heard) through a vast forest.

Lavender Blur

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Donna and I get out of the car...

Christian Bell

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Night LifeThen things started getting weird. I could give you a time frame but it was back when times didn't matter really, one hour as good as the next and the minutes used to be minutes not the digital counting that makes this crazy world now spin. Here was…

If only one more thing

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If I could say only one thing more to Tony who died a month ago, there is one thing I could find to say

Bunions

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You should really see my father's bunions. They are as obnoxious as fuchsia bowling bowls.

The road is nothing but a blind beggar banging a tin cup against the sun's piled up with snow front door

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alright, alright but not so much of a friendly little cigar-chomping companion-like a friendly ghost! That sweeping hair of longed for sleeping only awaits you once you've drowned too …

The Road a Scripture

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Granny says Jesus works quiet and curious but mama leaving with the UPS man weren’t no great mystery.

Paper Thin

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She slipspaper thinshe ripspaper thin

Always Vera

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“The price of everything's gone up,” I say. “But I don't have to buy you chocolate if it's costing too much.” She says nothing and bends her head again, gnarled hands slowly breaking a family-sized chocolate block into pieces.

On a Black and White Photography Tour with a Sweetheart of a Ghost on My Arm

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Suppose you should bend your whole body backwards you know like a powerful bow and push the rest of your true self forward in my face just like Georgia O'Keeffe in nineteen-nineteen, push it all over in my general direction? My gaze would …

Memoir 2.1

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Anyone thinking they aren’t alone on life’s journey has their head up their ass.

tears, et cetera

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ghosts are local plagues/of unexpended grief—tears/can't be bodiless.

Darker

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The moon poured more/ light into the sky/ yet we kept on talking

Art Class

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The model takes off her clothes and poses nude for our class. We draw her likeness on paper.

The Savage (K2)

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Rises monstrous out of the Baltoro GlacierPlaying poker with oxygen levelsPlays leap frog with embolisms.Malice and vanity join forces somurder guns the air even beforethe Death Zone. Down suits, bold and cockyregisters the climber's ambitions. The Serac , a…

Pollock's Last Snowflake?

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The question posed a voluptuous riddle. Were these frenzied silhouettes gestures of Jackson Pollock’s dribble?

The Vorpal Blade

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Pow! I shoot him through his jelly donut.

A Far Cry From Living

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I don't want no laugh track I'm trying to find something that's real

Drowning By The Pool

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The entire room is waiting for me like an octopus behind a closet door. The monk of the lamp knows he will get his daily turn on if he prays loudly enough. The favorite chair has my dent in its punched around chest like an embossed tattoo. A crushed…

Two Little Words

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I'll never be a Republican Megadonor or a Doomed Aviatrix. But I'm okay with that.

Residual Flashbacks

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Residual flashbacks; just tiny bright lightning bolts that flash in front of my eyes, just like standing watching a soaring bonfire on a cold and frosty November night, pinprick sparks flying up into the endless darkness of the night.

My Resolutions for 2015

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The only resolution I ever kept was when I said I wasn't going to create any more resolutions, and now I'm going to break that one.

2-100-Words

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The woman who lives on the first floor once loved dancing naked for her lovers.

The Sadness That Can Be Gulliver’s Travels

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One day, he decided instead to be-pet them,

Snatch 8 (the zombie flash sequence--it never dies)

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Oh, gracious mercy, oh...

Ace Reporter

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God, how I smite them.

Reading Without an ISBN

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The goal is to perform along with Jason Lee Norman--who is touring with his book of very short stories called Americas--a selection from my own collection called Country Without a Name. The symmetry excites me.

Return to the Nudist Camp

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I know you probably don’t want to hear any more of this nudist stuff about my family and all, but this Reamer guy was a red-faced German boozehound if there ever was one. He married my brother’s ex-wife Beryl, after Harris left her to her cheap red jug wi

The Cold Never Bothered Anything Anyways

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What kind of person would she be remembered as if she died over night and someone looked in her freezer? She took out a package of bacon from the freezer that was dated 2009.