Two Works

By - Dec 27, 2017

I was chatting with a girl. Her left brow crinkled each time I became excited about what I was saying. —I wonder, how many left brows like hers exist in the world?

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Eight Things I Hate About Me

By - Dec 20, 2017

             I hate it when I cockily kiss my biceps
in a dive bar, taunting a dock-worker
into arm-wrestling me, only to be
all the more humiliated when I lose.

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Two Stories

By - Dec 18, 2017

It wasn’t the stiff and desiccated bodies stacked standing behind the closed closet door and it wasn’t the rigor-mortified corpses hanging from the rafters by clotheslines and panty hose, engaging in the gentle sway and rotation characteristic of such bodies in such an array, that got to the cops.

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How Can I Tell You?

By - Dec 15, 2017

A T-Bird and two Galaxies was very good for one day, especially as the T-Bird did not involve a trade-in. The woman who bought it, Mrs. Preston, had come in and asked for Mark McGranville and shown him a magazine ad. “Do you have one of these in red?” she said.

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Last Will

By - Dec 13, 2017

21.) Please don’t leave my brain inside me. I don’t like the idea of being alone. Give it to science; find out if they can actually “see” what went wrong. Have them go at it with experiments. Check if there is a gene.

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Squirrel Attacks Man With Nuts

By - Dec 11, 2017

I told him I thought it was a bad idea, but he wasn’t listening, and instead he said, “I’ve got a riddle for you.” He said, “At the girls’ residence, taped onto a wall in the hallway before I left, was a headline from The Globe and Mail that said: Squirrel Attacks Man With Nuts. How many ways can this be interpreted?

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SLAB III

By - Dec 8, 2017

I wanted to sink my face into Aoudad’s haunches like one of those padded rings at the head of the massage tables in the training room, to lap at the winking center of their grainy meadow, to taste past him, polish the floor through his taint with my tongue, plumb for undiscovered metals in a hidden mine, be the hook in the cum-mottled wall on which his taxidermal trunk was mounted.

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Three Stories

By - Dec 6, 2017

Back before she had her own children, when she heard someone with children state or insinuate that people without children, people like her, couldn’t possibly understand what it was like to have children, and therefore—usually this would be the part that was insinuated—didn’t have access to the same amount of joy in life as did a person with children…

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from “$50,000”

By - Dec 4, 2017

 

Words present us with little pictures of things

 

 

So how is it possible to mean anything you say

 

 

I feel like a circle: perfect in theory and impossible in reality

 

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From the Discarded Collection

By - Dec 1, 2017

A series of photographs are tacked to the walls of this abandoned apartment in the heart of the projects. It looks recently vacated, empty except for a blood-stained pillow. The floor is marked by a fresh ring of soot from a campfire but where you might expect to find discarded cans of food, there’s only a small pile of stones. Someone’s parted the dark curtains which reveal a view of the nearby polluted river. The pale sunlight drifts inside to frame these pictures of K.M.

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