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Chattanooga Afternoon / Let’s Talk About Chattanooga

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Let’s talk about Chattanooga, the cloud / mountains, the monastery bench, drunk / at sunset

Owl Watching

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I attended the burial of our affair when I found her notebook— maybe it should be called her diary—that she had foolishly left on the deck of my beach house where she stayed while I was on that short trip to Chicago. Numb at first, unsure how to proceed, I went…

SNOW JOB

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One sneaker in the middle of the A-Plus Pawn lot...

Uterus

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I describe mine as uterine-based hysteria or Sex Test.

The Little Dog from Outer Space

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I looked at her, shook my head and tried to smile. She smiled back, beaming a radiance that pushed away the chill.

The Last Birthday Party

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The boy giggled, splashing his father and howling at the cold.

Polly

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I taught Polly to turn on a flashlight with his nose. It became his favorite occupation and he'd sit for hours with the light between his paws, watching the things it lit—sometimes jumping up to lick the wall. He'd shine it on our daughter's…

What We Know but Can’t Describe

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We know them just enough/ to recognize them when we find them.

The MacGowans Flee West

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Some believe the Scots were encouraged to emigrate, hired guns as it were, to Ireland to civilize that population. If that's the case, we would see it as another evil English trick. In any case, we MacGowans are Scots Irish and Protestant.

I Don't Blame You

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for going forthe river and being blinded by its millionsof invisible fish, all sparklinglike pink enchanteddreams made of rosequartz and shaped like glassroses, who would? I fell for an illusionaftermy own fashion,but I could alwaysadmit mymistakes and catcha laugh out…

Swicks Rule!

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She waves her hand around, says, “Pah!” and starts digging invisible things out of the potato salad with her bare hands.

Mythologies of Self

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We lie sleepless at night, enraged,/ and finger the keyboard

Poets Who Thrum

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Poets who thrum jirble and thwack Poets who thrum eat quorn with raw swamms Poets who thrum are eristic (not shambolic) Poets who thrum deliciate unto kench when they freck

Anaphylaxis

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I remembered our wedding reception. I tasted the crab cake, pulled her from greeting people, said, you have to try. And she did.

October

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Flicking On Some Trees, Just To See Your Silly Grin in the Half-Light of the Moon

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The world knows how to make you smile. I'm certain, but it's your own unique grin that they want for themselves. It's always been their perfect prize to horde. The trouble of course comes from wanting something that only exists in…

Decided

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Millicent asked me to stop over at her place for coffee after work because we needed to talk. While pouring, she said she was torn about telling me what her father used to do to her when her mom was not around, but she thought I needed to know how twisted her life was…

Unnamed

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The child was delivered, set to breathing, and whisked away before Fae Anne could even catch a glimpse of her.

Transcription of Audio: Meeting with Miss Jewel Eppinette

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No one has touched me for a long, long time and I believe that is why I am dying. This is a notion that is new to me but it has persisted over the last few weeks and I believe I finally have apprehended the truth. There was a time, I remember all too well, when I might…

Frank Meets Francine

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I interviewed in an hour and didn’t have an umbrella, so I ducked inside the next door I passed. It didn’t matter what they sold, I wasn’t there to make a purchase.

Clean

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I am standing in my neighbor’s back yard in my underwear, and my trash can is clean.

DEAR MOTHERFUCKER

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I'm standing outside your window with our son's fingers in my fist.

Two Things I Did Not Know

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Their breath stank inside my lungs and tamped down the very minute amount of remorse I had left. It was replaced with contempt. Their fear warmed my cold sensibility as I steeled myself.

A Quantum of Disappointment

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Reality winks at us then scampers off

Drunk Sonnet (for Meg Tuite)

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perjured like a fickle impulse

Something Jazzy

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. . . clinging to life in a shroud of winter air. It veered up five flights to a sweltering summer night on the roof . . .

Carapace

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He gathers our abusive fathers, our esophageal tears, our peanut fetuses.

Whoami

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A woman with fallen breasts is attempting to hang her laundry on a string. Two tall men mount horses and ride them into the meadow. A squad of children wrap themselves around a playground.

Locations

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They confess love for Karaoke and metal rock. They have purchased expensive Stratocasters and Zildjians.

Nola Visit

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The little Lady and I drove down to New Orleans to take in the Mardi Gras festivities we’d read so much about.