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July Night At Greenlake

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In the vaultwhere no one had daredsince your first stillborn screamsI swept out your deadThe gnawing thingsboneless and dustyand stinking of churchesYou came to me thenand I took youthere in the shadowsunder the tree on the grassnear the reeds by the lakeI dived in your…

Four: Of Moths, Poets, and Streambanks

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“And what kind of man would prefer all these dusty old books to my physical form? Who would memorize archaic incantations, when he could be whispering in my ear? Why search for the ancient splendors of metaphor, when one could be searching for the ...

de gustibus non disputandum

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those darn kids

Split second

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When people talk about the end moments when one's life flashes before his or her eyes, they often refer to time as slowing down. I can attest to this phenomenon during my final moments, before the collision: the song playing on the radio, the squeal of tires and flash of…

Now I'm not a virgin anymore

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On my second trip home from the University of Illinois down state in Urbana, it was during our break between semesters, I remember it was a particularly freezing cold and miserable January (1963.) I had a date with Lynda.

Hackney Bar Number 7

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Down the concrete stairs I slinked, past some fur coat wearing tosser and his braying equine girlthing, and pushed my way into the eardrum puncturing furnace of the place.

Fugue No. 3

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The falcon cannot hear the falconer. The rain comes down in sheets.

Ode to a Shopping Mall

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In 1609 Ben Jonson was hired to write a work in celebration of the opening of a new shopping mall.

In The Arms of Veronica

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Her smile was a cliff I stood on, trying to wrangle some kind of hope from the whites of her teeth. I heard the sound of the buzzer from the door on my ward. She stood there, a sickly ash tree, each limb flailing about like she was drowning in my sea of a

How Would Jesus Drive?

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Contemporary persecution of Christians takes on milder forms of torture like having to explain away something Pat Robertson said, or constantly having to hear about Fred Phelps picketing funerals because he happens to hate homosexuals.

Squirrels Just Wanna Have Fun

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“Emma,” I said, “will you quit staring? What about the meatpacker’s hope for his daughter?” I asked. “Have you even thought about that?” “Once you get off the moon, maybe,” she said “Honestly, after so much lamb and schwarma I could go for a

Winter-Love in a Dark Corner

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. . . making a little winter-love, in a dark corner.

Digging Pablo

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They’re exhuming Pablo Neruda To put his old bones to the test Determine if he was murdered At the Capitalists’ request.

Blue Crabs

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The perfect murder, and it’s not even murder.

Ouroboros

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It matters little who thought of it first, what mattered was the schism. Or, to be more accurate, those on the opposite sides of the schism. And, of course, you are a part of this, dear reader. You are of one side or the other.

I'm So Glad

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The boy had decided he needed to sell his music equipment—the p.a. system, his amp, his compact organ. His band had broken up and wasn’t going to get back together. He was leaving town at the end of the summer, to where exactly he didn’t know yet.

A Rough Dance

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A young woman is seated center stage. She is pretty, dressed in a short nightgown. She sits nervously, her body tense and expectant.

The Nutty Professor

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- Do you get out much, Professor? - How so? You mean to lectures? - No, I mean, you know, say, a walk in the park, or, take in a movie, or, maybe take a chick out to dinner, show her a good time, get a few drink

The Genius

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"The Genius has since abandoned all hope of seeing full remission of the Great Descending Haze in his lifetime."

The Cool Aunt

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You never forget your first mouthful of monkey stew.

The Birth of Girma Dali

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Amid the swerve and pulse of hungry bodies Girma Dali picks his spot, a tissue-wide patch of net where's he going to strike. A green-jerseyed defender closes in on him his brute momentum unleashed like a kamikaze pilot swooping into enemy orbit, his lunging body makes…

Hive mentality

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My anger over yesterday's argument with you slipped from memory when I felt the first of the two hundred bee stings, each tiny jab another burst of brilliant pain, and each little attack another reminder to watch where I'm walking.

Six Hours

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My cell phone shakes; it’s my father’s voice calling my name - so far away - with long distance crackle and panic on the line.

It's Like That

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Like the term rogue cop

Helen of the Poetry World

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That night we went out to shoot some pool at the pool hall over on Durant Avenue, which was above a bar called Kip’s. Rotten Bobby walked in with his own damn pool cue, which came broken down in two pieces. He carried it in a narrow felt-lined carrying

commitment

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but isn't that the case in most long-term, committed relationships?

noise

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I am naked in an upright glass box with water running through my hair and over my skin. I am in there when the old man who invited himself into our house for six long months (because no one had the nerve to tell him to leave) opens a door and stands…

I and a Friend Eat Burritos

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My friend and I were talking while having burritos (some days, it is as if all we ever eat are burritos, existentially speaking) and I was looking at the way he inserted that shaft of meat in his mouth and thought him prodigious for his technique

A Small White Cloud

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Has anyone reached inside your eyes lately? Has anyone searched for your soul as it floated near the ceiling of the past? Has anyone told you they needed you to touch them, to lie down beside them and breathe, just breathe, and live wherever it is that ma

Corkscrewing, Pt. II.

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Well, just put your hand on my knee, alone in my room, perv, unasked-and-unflirted for, go get a date, you coward, you limp-dicked male bitch . . .