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Moving is like moving upstream, like swimming underwater against a mighty current. You are salmon people: pink, vulnerable.

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Tap shoes are the portal to the opening of heavens that will ignite me with the highest voltage of electricity, give me the gift I was meant for at birth. Prophecy.

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Chelsea's breasts are more the size of tangerines, but he likes them. He likes that she smells like Fruit Loops and that her front teeth overlap slightly. Her mouth is glossed. He slips his tongue inside.

Advice from Topeka

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... I know all about ax murderers because Elmo, my uncle by marriage to my sister who never had any sense was one. He done killed six women in a farm outside of Topeka in the space of they say three minutes, including my sister and her bingo friends . . .

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After not going out for weeks, I went to a bar and met an electrical engineer, a motorcycle racer who raced in the Black Hills, a Renaissance man, in a relationship with a young married woman, and I told him about the toad.

Great Moments in Blindness

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I am complicit in the darkness

"Leda and the Crane-Daddy" by Bobbie Ann Mason and Meg Pokrass

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Co-written with Bobbie Ann Mason

Greyhound

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I stare, out a dirty window, / into the sanitary blackness.

Counting

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For my father, my best buddy.

Paper Elephants

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Every year people came from as far away as Des Moines and Halifax for Elephant Day. They came to see the elephants.

Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk

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A portrait of my sweetheart drawn while she is asleep: a passed-out angel illuminated by the light of dawn coming in from the bathroom window, one of her shoes missing.

The Snow Whale

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“I found out the most amazing thing,” Mike said. “I used to be like everyone else. But I sent away for a DNA test where they trace your ancestry.”

The Fuckers

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The fuckers tumble out of the bathroom like clowns from a tiny car. The girl has these huge tits and dark red hair. She rushes past me, smelling like chocolate. A guy's behind her, holding onto the back of her jeans. He's not good looking enough to…

She Used to Have Nails

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...the job was easy, just pour and deliver, pour and deliver.

Elemental

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It was in the last expulsion/explosion (theories differ) that we became OneWith. Tsunami. Seism. Zud. All matter cast out outcast came back like a gangster on crack. What did it think it was? Who do we think we are? It thinks we think it thinks…

Tongue

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I watch my mother No longer beautiful or charming Her left arm shaking Her mind a gone thing no longer doing her wrong Wandering away from me in the mall To kiss the hands of strangers...

Lullabies.

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Sleep shall take you where plutonium Stars the drinking pools with light.

The Promise Land

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One sentence

We Don't Need No Education

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“There’s an ill energy that emanates from your precise heart that I find attractive”

Marine Forecast

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A favorite place doesn't always offer comfort.

LUPUS

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Unexpected Fever

Nostradamus Dies of Gout. Nostradamus Dies of a Broken Heart. Nostradamus Crosses a Bridge that is Yet to be Built.

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Nostradamus died of gout on a Friday evening. He would be the first person in history to die of complications relating to gout. Spiked rods of crystallized uric acid pushed their way through his synovial fluid just as he composed a quatrain about the end

A Beautiful Ancient Ghostly Passionate Spirit of the Stars

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Fabio has a soul of passion. A beautiful soul of passion. His passionate soul was so beautiful the ancient stars shone upon him and made him look like ghosts at night.

Deep Inside The Light There Are No Dreams

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Mack’s mind held a chandelier.

In the Red

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The younger woman asked Scott if he loved Jesus.

Our Story in Ten Photographs

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1. The ghost that photographs my wife and me has a peculiar sense of lighting. In this one, we are sitting at the kitchen table of our old apartment. The table is made of glass. There is nothing on the table except our elbows. She has lowered her head between her…

The Third Time my Father Tried to Kill Me

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They sang and clapped and stomped shod feet on hardwood floor, the smell of man sweat and bomb-making thick as perfume.

Rot

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I loved my Dad. He was executed in 1967. He was guilty.

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the dream went by this way/ i woke and held a cigarette/ the hudson wore winter white

Writer Conversation with Husband

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"What, you only like my funny stories?"