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Lipstick in the Kitchen

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In the middle of the floor squatted a sway-backed butcher block that appeared to have been chopped upon with such force as to make it cower.

The Water

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The phenomena of this water formed the first definite link in that vast chain of apparent miracles with which I was destined to be at length encircled.

Beginning Amy Clampitt

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The walks along the beach/ render brave, meticulous, taxonomies

the rest of sleep

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peripheral dreams fall out from the head / the body squirms then burrows abed: / “have you had a good life? you now have less! / —led a hard life instead? you soon will be gone!”

The Sickness of your Genius

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This is not about you Although you are stone cold and sexy

The City's Not For You

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You left your quiet life for a home in the city.

After Detox

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When detox-man drives away, the windows down, the radio playing on the classic rock station (The Eagles), he thinks about moving out of town.

For the young couple in the stairwell passed on my way to teaching Medieval World Literature

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I have/been you/years before/of course

A Beggar's Welcome

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. . . it's all we ever want -- the holding.

Supersymmetric: Almost but not quite

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As black as his socks with a hole in them she used to sew while watching. The octopus has three hearts you know. Yes, No and Maybe. As black as inkpots, inkjets, as black as typewriter ribbons and the Gutenberg press, as black as the ink of a trillion

The Serious Writer Tracks His Stats

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The officers carried him away in cuffs as he yelled "I NEED STATS! PLEASE! JUST GIVE ME THE STATS!"

Bosch's Last Words

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I / go my / way alone

New Year's Eve

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Quail looked up at her. Unsmiling, challenging. Lemme just go wash my hands, he said. She closed the door, bolted it. You won’t need your hands.

Boy's Worst Friend

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After dinner, I looked forward to taking a shower and cleansing myself of the day’s mishap. Cher had other plans.As I left the bathroom, Cher nipped me in the butt, taking my towel, skin, and blood with her. I remember writhing on the floor outside my sis

Brown Paper

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“Americans like beer, right?” he asks. “It’s not acceptable for a woman to buy beer.” He proffers it in a brown paper bag.

Tonight's Special

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I didn't arrive at the Wicked Spoon every night in the same mood. Some nights I would arrive under the spell of a generous emptiness, what I like to call the euphoria of futility. Not exactly a state of bliss, but a dazed detachment in which everything is so pointlessly…

February

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a big silent western sky

Drunken Terrorists Act

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They asked each other at Court-suggested AA meetings: What can Texas do but throw us in jails already packed with low-life scum?

In the Sequence of Events

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Eroica sprawled among/ the horns and violins

Ukiyo

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It’s true enough my status as honorary male has come in handy in my profession, but I never considered matters of the flesh. I feel a surge of warmth between my thighs as if a cock is dangling there, thick and florid. The sensation is oddly exciting.

In the Jukebox Light

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At first we envied Tom and Betty’s dancing. Friday nights at The Big Club, Saturdays at Mickey’s, and none of us can remember a time we saw them in the arms of another partner.

The Silken(revised version)

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tentacles of stringy rains opens up the stage antics for this common February day to the fidgety audience at hand but it appears that they just won't be able to grab on, not this time. The familiar grumpy wind with…

Lovelies on the Beach

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He doesn’t intend to lie after this. For now, he just wants to take in the sea and the quiet.

The Killer

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It don't knock you down to the goddamned ground and push your face into the mat and dare you to get back up. Just so it can knock you down again. They don't have real dreams. Dreams that make them wake up in the middle of the night. Hurting. Wanting.

LATE NIGHT WITH MANDELBROT

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On Soapography, two actresses are discussing everyone’s personal heaven, and in another room you can hear a woman who is your dead mother combing her hair in a doctor’s smock in a dream,

Strawberry Daiquiris

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A hot summer night walks into a bar and orders a drink.

taking work home with you

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the sound of ashes/ being poured in the kitchen

Aristeia

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And no one died achieving aristeia/ in this battle. We have come/ at least some little distance.

Estate

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In the kitchen they discovered the instruments. A flute under the sink tucked behind a rusted silver pipe. An oboe on the floor in the pantry. And a violin across the ice tray in the freezer, now dark. "Not ice," sister said, holding it up by the neck.

A Bear Story

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In the spring, my father would dress for class in a bear costume and chase students around campus.