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The Wave

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Crispcrashingcoldan interlude from youThe pebbles pulled back and forthlike side stepping nailswhite frothan interlude from youThe sun likeA camellia for herCrispColddropsflicking on her face.An interludefrom you.

The Caveman Attends the Symphony Without His Club

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“Would you consider renewing for the next season?” “We’re not interested.” “Can I ask you why?” I considered my reply. I was thinking of mincing my words. The man on the other end of the line seemed, how should I put this, somewhat s

Mystery

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In a corner of a neighbor’s land too stony to till Cob makes a mystery.

Indestructible

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With furrowed brow, he took the plastic stems and began to beat the blossom ends against the black brick wall.

Making Waves in Sculptural Math

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It was a summer full of rage and discontent. The air had a new taste to it, reminiscent of the tang of battery acid.

Chalky goes to night school and studies the Classics

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I don’t even want to think about Aethra shtupping Posiden and Aegeus

Silent Now, Against the Wash of Time

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Let us both stand steep, alone, this night; the tide Lies, hastening to us: and, far away, I hear the sea gulls sweep, through the divide That shapes drear skies, between dead lights of day. What worth was love? Man severs all he is, To make one…

Syntax Connections

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Consider this. Only a sentence ago we were complete strangers, oceans of time, distance and thought between us.

A Writer’s Ramble

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In every writer's room there is a bogeyman born in the closet, growing with every blot on the virgin sheet, feeding on the pain of writing, of solitude, the failure, the rage, the confusion, the helplessness, the fear, the humiliation. The narrower the…

Is That a Floating Postcard over There in your Shirt Pocket, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

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We came wind-milling together ,up and over the blue and yellow stone bluffs, like a couple of empty yet racing nowhere fast plastic grocery bags, catching onto everything and anything in our way, and desperately trying to get free again,…

All About You

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Sometimes you want to strike out at me. What is stopping you? There is no stopping you. You know I will not retaliate. Gone is all that I will be to you then.

Painting with Big Mama

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I still see Big Mama leaning over her garden to pick a zinnia to put in her still life. Her old pink slip, hanging diagonally a foot under her hiked up, ragged, stained dress, half covered by her paint smock, which matched her white, faux fur, bedroom sli

Having Read the Poems of Matt Dennison

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Having read the poetry of Dennison I hereby give up writing.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 37

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—Frank, how is your sex life?

War Then

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They were just boys, the Nazis I mean, young in their twenties, not much older than my brother Cyril.

Emotional Gentrification - excerpt Single Stroke Seven

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Sunday, Nolan and I drop by the ice rink on 10th and Alma to watch the amateur hockey leagues battle it out in an unspoken yet assumed class war: the buff, unemployed rink bums who can grind ice, cross-check, and stick handle like the pros, versus the dou

Gonadista Blogsdashiva

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"Shouldn’t I be able to easily get my arms around nothing?”

Poya Day

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Prabo was late. It wasn’t like him, I thought, sitting on the steps of the Galle Face Hotel, the Indian Ocean pounding the beach abutting the nearby Galle Face Green and spraying fine mist everywhere. Or at least it didn’t seem like him.

Heads or Tails

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The man next door came over with a pitchfork.

When the Meat Puppet Meets the Meat Lady

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Diamonds are for suckers Diamonds are for the miserable at heart Keep that in mind when you are busy Puffing out your chest and Slipping on your dancing shoes We were about to witness the release of souls From the captivity of flames At th

God's Vial

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The porous bear the anchorite’s vial

Geneviève's Voice

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Maybe this very short story is about shyness. Maybe. I'm not sure.

I Am the Poet Laureate

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I am the Poet Laureate of my bedroom I am the Poet Laureate of 6065 Chabot Road, Jokeland I am the Poet Laureate of the Loser Café I have wind in my shoes if not my hair I am the Poet Laureate of Karmic Impulses Of tabloids and gossip I am

Needle in a pocket

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Finding a soft pink blanket I prepared a place by the dirty window where he watched his world from a corner of his life.

On Learning a Lover Died a Suicide

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I got the news that you had died as I was eating American chop suey, watching the Celtics.

SWAMPLANDS by Paul D. Brazill

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Elvis awoke in a cold, dank sweat, hungover from bourbon and bad dreams.

Tabula Rasa

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accidental ground/ for index-fingered figures

Dental Group Moves to Ban D-Cup Hygienists

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A patient with a B-Cup hygienists hears “The tissue is a little red around this back molar" as "I missed you in my little bed this morning."

Zapruder Film

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But there it was, amid the “junk” set to be thrown out with the rest of his childhood, opened accidentally to the page of his Indiana Jones Action Journal about his winter formal when he was sixteen.

Clear Cut

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John held up his pistol and racked the slide to chamber a round. He told me that he knew a few things. He knew I'd knocked up Nikki. His girl. He knew I'd taken Nikki to the free clinic in Gresham. He knew I wasn't…