Stories tagged poetry

Betty and the Neti-Pot Study Group Conundrum

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In results only recently reached By her Himilayan neti-pot study group It was firmly determined that Sex was the number one culprit In after-climax nasal congestion And that avoiding sex was the only way To keep those passages open and clear

Cloud 9, Really?

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I wonder, just a thought Who even dreamt to Teach a pig Latin? And why a starfish Mirrors the stars We do not know There’s a whole lot To wonder about Like, I don’t know How about Cloud 9? I want to know what happened On Cloud

You Better Quit Your Runnin' Around

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I remember it was late at night I was with Johnny Appleseed’s younger brother Bruce Bruce Appleseed He was the lead singer for the band Fake Moustache Turns out he was just a bum Set on vibrate Who’d bought a 10-gallon hat once But h

Notes to the Dead

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The kind of poem poets write and read. I mean, hey I was feelin’ it HARD at 3:24 am, and this is what spilled out.

What It Took To Be God

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You had to put up with Sunday drivers You had to love children All children, all of them! This is what it took to be God It wasn’t fun You had to be patient, sometimes You had to pretend to look the other way You needed to lose your he

- "You literally can´t believe the facts Tucker Carlson tells you. So say Fox´s lawyers."

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And in so saying, we shoot a glance at the calendar, a swear and a prayer escaping our lips simultaneously. The home stretch of the year that´s in it is an uphill fogbound chicane of black ice and oncoming trucks. Anyone with half a mind to jump in…

Let's Be Clear

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When she says your bookis interesting, she meansit's odd, and when she saysyour poem is brave, she meansit's foolish, and when she saysyour story is original, she meansit's bad, and when she says yourplay is well made, she means it'sboring, and when she says…

it

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where will we be/ when it happens?

Clocks

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His hands are old But still function As hands

(living in the flames)

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After it is over, I go out into the world to the café. The flower sellers are setting up their booth outside the glass doors. Classical guitar over the speakers. A soft rain falling. Heads are bowed there, reading the news. Coffee, croissants, cappuccin

English Riviera

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Wooden piers, sour local beers Sodium smears on aquariums, damaged

My One and Only Brother

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My only brother, Herb Meant the world to me He taught me how to drive his Triumph TR3 He taught me that I could have sex In the front seat of a car With the girl sitting on my lap facing me He played a saxophone and a clarinet I still have

We didn’t read the news

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I was at my usual booth, half a cold cappuccino in front of me, my daughter crawling over my lapin an attempt to crayon the paper I was reading.The man at the table across the floor looked like the prison warden…

Advice to the Lovelorn at the Mall

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O it’s good to get fucked in the rain It’s good to get fucked in the back seat of a power boat on a river in the hot summer air With the mosquitos sucking the life out of you It’s good to get fucked with your bare back rubbing up against the rou

The Rise of the Restless Dust Busters

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Some maid from the past Must have started up our Dust buster on its own Startling me to no end I was sitting across the room When it just started up She must have been trying to tell us something About the terrible job We were doing kee