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Sunk

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The weight of my heart dragged me in dangerous directions.

Late Autumn

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Rough sonnet about faded love

Chimera (a wild and unrealistic dream or notion)

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... while I lie, cool as a nectar cream snowball, in my Maggie The Cat slip, painting my toenails a color called Bad Influence

Lingering Over Language

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The mornings he comes in

A Nun Walks Into A Library...

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Library life is full of surprises.

Ante Meridiem

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Still dipped in night...

The Model

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My art teacher hated Salvador Dali.

Dunes

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I went out through another cold still morning erasing my steps behind me not because I did not want to be followed but because I did not want to find my way back again.

Dinner at the Harmony Restaurant

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Balling my fists, I banged them on the retro-formica tabletop. The taste of pufferfish balls in an oleander-infused reduction with a seaweed and pomegranate side-salad tossed in a geranium-rottweiler vinaigrette rose in my throat.

Contentment

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On the bed he tickled her until she was crying with laughter. And then the tickles became caresses, the fingers, lips.

Rabusongu

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Train Whistles In Wintertime

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Train whistles in wintertime made him feel lonely.

Awash

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Nobody has been able to use the washer and dryer for over a month now. Our neighbors have gone laundry crazy. They've become suds-a-holics. They wash everything. If it isn't nailed down, they wash it. Outboard engines, peculiar feelings, dominatrix boots, metaphors,…

Welcome Back

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I lean forward and take her two hands in mine. I look into her eyes. “It’s you and only you,” I say. She starts to cry.

Heart

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She drew her hands out of the chest cavity and looked at the clock. ‘Time of death,’ she said.

Three in a Major Key

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One can watch the grass green/ in response. One can watch the world green/ in response.

Confess another sin

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A Brief Conversation With A Man Who Fell Off a Cliff

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I asked him where he hurt and he said everywhere.

The Tease

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She was sick and tired of marriage. She didn't want to be a mother, but now she was.

Halloween Hangover

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Did someone say BOO?

Three Stanzas Ending with a Line from R. Crumb

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The squirrels will not stop peeing on the trees.

Tree Voices (revised)

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Shhhhhhhh...

Phone Call

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I could call him. And be done with this waiting but I refused. I wanted him to not forget me first. To bring himself to remember me first before I'd give him the pleasure of my company.

Love Story, a Sequel

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He hid in parks and abandoned apartment houses until his wounds healed. He ate nuts, berries, and seeds. A shy, gentle soul, he watched children playing on the monkey bars, and thought of his lost youth.

Metaviews at Metazen

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This is self-reflection or self-reflexive writing. Candor but not verse. That is what I write: not-verse. On occasion I write a poem though rarely an occasional poem. Instead of calling it non-fiction we could call it non-verse.

Rats

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He tried to call on his break but she didn’t answer. He imagined her on the floor, sobbing, like she’d been the other day. The grey rat would have chewed through a plug-in or some wires and started a fire. She would be ashes, a blackened corpse, reeki

Fear in a Handful of Dust / National Poetry Month 2015 30 Poems

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Fear in a Handful of Dust

When Your Poem Becomes Self Aware

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Where will you hide? Because you know it Will seek you out for answers you might Only be asking for yourself. It Will send many students to stand outside Your apartment and chant your name. It will beg you to perform its birth Again to the…

The Bond Trader Goes Hunting

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The Bond Trader begins his morning with coffee and a hit of LSD.

Bus Ride

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Pretty boy looks over at me and grins, got a smoke?