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BEYOND THE LANE

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She learned the difference between listening and hearing, between looking and seeing.

Black Orchids

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I told him he was just paying for his sins. He gave me a look. "Why me?" he asked.

My Paper Boats, Your Paper Boat

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You make your art when you can and Perhaps vice versa. You really Don't know what that means? Consult your tarot. You make your Art and visualize your mind As a large pool of water. You Make your art and if you're lucky They may…

Clay Women

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"... I knew Willie had gone— out the back door or out the side window. I knew he probably slipped over the fence behind my house into Lou C.’s backyard..."

Zwarovski Crystals

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It was 14:24 official eBay time. Louise had spent hours looking at over 30,000 items under “Elvis Memorabilia"

Ways of Seeing: Carracci

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I have become interested in Carracci / Ludovico Carracci

Sounds like leaving

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chains across all the old doors

Where's Waldo?

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Over his usual ham sandwich and Pepsi for lunch Uncle Waldo used to often say, “Going out in the dead of night without a flashlight is dangerous” and I'd nod but I kept slipping out, sneaking down my secret path and take a dip in the rich neighbor's pool because…

Waiting

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He grew red-faced at her quiet words, "I'm pregnant."

Last Bell

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Coward, cuckold, she taunts: So be it. He's not a young man anymore, nor as clever as he once was, or thought.

Bullied in the Bible Belt

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Every Monday you brought your Sunday finest to the bus stop...

What I find

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is every word is a small step takenaway from you that arcs back to me likea mamba's mouth. I'm not going aroundin place so much as running in circles. You can see my devilry here. You arethe truth here and that makes me the lie. You'renew morning. I'm much, much more…

Short Cuts

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The shop is swarming with little women.

The Crossing

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There was nothing to do but dream ourselves forward. Nothing to do but not die.

Plucked

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I walked to work back then...

10 Keys

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Let’s play a game. I’m thinking of a word. Do we have to?

How We Send to Anderbo

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She's always sitting in a soft chair watching television with little stars dotting her elbows and lightning bolts on her wrists.

The Telescope

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The man meets a woman while out on his lunch break. She seems nice; they strike up a conversation. Before leaving, the woman gives the man her telephone number. The man goes home and thinks about it. It’s been a long time since he’s been on a date.

I Was A Republican (For only one day, and it was a long, long, time ago.)

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There was gonna be a rumble in our schoolyard. An outright brawl. It was gonna be just like Blackboard Jungle. Only real. Not some movie at the Duwamish Drive-In. Every boy in my school, it seemed like, was lined up outside except me. All the third and fourth graders…

Life as a Porno

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It could as well be late night infomercials/ saturating the screen// with medieval looking exercise machines

Driving Old

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I drive old now

The Wooden City

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Ah, how sweet is forbidden fruit, how delicious undiscovered sin!

Heart Line

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One sunny morning, a big-bellied ball of yellow fur surveyed a yard full of prospective adopters and ran straight to one. She’d been chosen.

Dinner at La Maison Bouche

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The knife that precedes the bigger knife that precedes the spoon that precedes the flat fork, with stuff like that I'm all butterfingers, & even though he's never been to Italy except once to shoot a gun when the world was a great big jumble, he remembers all…

The Witch in the Canyon

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There's a witch in Laurel Canyon.She made Wes a promise.Her bungalow smelled like Parliaments. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive oil. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive, and a freshly opened pack of Red Vines. Wes could have curled up into a ball and fallen asleep on her…

How to Remember Important Things

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Save the whales. Save the dolphins. Save the bored housewives. Save my hands, so often cupped over the sorrow in being alive. Save the beautiful made-up cherries of delight I feel everywhere in your presence. Save the sprawling…

My Books

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My books wound you. They wound me / too.

Driving Years

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There was a form to it, not reproduction. I wanted to write Moby Dick without a man in it. [I wanted to write Moby Dick with only a woman in it.] But I didn't do it. It's like a seven-year diary, and it did happen. I might write it as memory then.

THE SAME STORY

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Our house was big, red brick, with off-white walls that watched over us while we slept, while we prayed for our souls to be kept, while we shared bath water and bunk beds and the secret of the back closet we will die with and never reveal.

The Tongues of Spring

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Another new spring and the leaves