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Three Poems

By - Jul 5, 2018

Everyone shivering in their
Leather jackets
Eating sandwiches named after
Serial killers

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excerpt from “Bad-Asses”

By - Jul 2, 2018

I ran to the kitchen and took the butcher knife out of the drawer. I put it behind my back and ran back to the porch. The crowd had grown, and everybody was chanting, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

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Magic Soft

By - Jun 28, 2018

      “What about your husband?” I asked.
      “I’m not married,” she said.
      “I thought you said you have a husband.”
      “He doesn’t care,” she said.

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Blind Baby Pasta

By - Jun 27, 2018

Pasta Man watches me drink some water and then crumples up his face at me, pulling his face back into his shaking head, saying “No, no, no, you gotta chew the chardonnay like a dog, baby.” I say “Shit Pasta you’re right,” then I take another gulp and make sure to chew my water.

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Four of Žižek’s Jokes

By - Jun 20, 2018

Today, the old joke about a rich man telling his servant «Throw out this destitute beggar – I’m so sensitive that I can’t stand seeing people suffer!» is more appropriate than ever.

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Two Stories

By - Jun 18, 2018

S had lost all in gambling, joined the anonymous group, then gambled penny stocks with self-created algorithm.

Won.

Then lost.

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Knife Boy David

By - Jun 11, 2018

There are usually two people trapped inside one sad body: someone who wants to die and someone who wants to live. There are stress lines on a stranger’s face that go years and years down all the way to the bone.

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<< "TECHNOLOGY" >>

By - Jun 8, 2018

Gnawed at my foot like it was stuck in the trap of being a foot. Delighted, at times, in the chewy gloom of the thing.

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Prowl

By - Jun 4, 2018

The moon sunk low enough to wear it as a feedbag. His craters amassed with period, the dead egg sacrament, territories slurped free of kin, hushing about how we are all one on his big receipt.

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Four Stories

By - May 30, 2018

These good woods, protective woods, murderous woods…

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Different Instruments

By - May 28, 2018

One looked like a brush, she saw it in the trash after while pulling her legs through her pants – thistles in a round shape like for a pipe or for dishes in a machine but full of blood, her blood and what was scraped at there in the trash. Another felt smooth, like the knife a professional would use to square off a cake’s icing.

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Four Poems

By - May 23, 2018

three bumper stickers on one car in reno, nv

swastika

confederate flag

‘i love my dachshund’

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The Champ is Here

By - May 21, 2018

He felt like he learned something when he saw the real life classic woodpecker. It was something out of nature programming. Pulling into his driveway and seeing the woodpecker through the windshield.

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Egress

By - May 18, 2018

The smallest tremors of the sun on the air, the air pressing on the ground, the air pressing on itself – humidity from ash dry to falling ocean, heat searching and rising, swelling bodies and air. All days in one.

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Maintenance Art

By - May 16, 2018

Driving she saw men and women and men and men and women and women and iterations of each in numerous hues unloading kids, pets, suitcases, purses, tents, paperwork, lunches, coats, all of these from cars parked in driveways like her own outside of schools like ones nearby, everything this slew of searching meat and plastic, cotton and rubber staving off a godly heave.

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Beauty Room

By - May 14, 2018

Even the things that had been bad were good now, like, say, my fat arms, which had lost their mottle. It wasn’t like I was above myself looking down, but like every nerve in me could see.

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Cult Marm

By - May 4, 2018

a billion
grasses
blanched white
in the shade
of a trillion
suns

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excerpt of Trip

By - Apr 30, 2018

If death by comet was unexpected, and departing Earth nonphysically like I did on psilocybin was, after decades in the same metaphysical place, beyond unexpected, my experience of smoked DMT was beyond beyond unexpected. It was around two ontological corners. It was closing closed eyes twice, or waking, incredibly, thrice.

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Scam Poems

By - Apr 27, 2018

now i don’t trust anybody
and i’m afraid to open up
and i don’t communicate my true feelings

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Poems I Like

By - Apr 25, 2018

for me to like a poem

it has to barely be like one

mostly i want it to be coherent

and very short

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Among

By - Apr 23, 2018

I grip the sleeve of Lindsay’s sweatshirt so tight my knuckles turn white. What are you mumbling? she says and I shake my head. Even if I had continued to believe in her, I know Mary could not do jack shit for me now.

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Windex

By - Apr 13, 2018

  In the windowless laundry room that doubles as my bedroom, Cellar fills me in. “Stevenson’s brother, last ...

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excerpt of The Garbage Times/White Ibis

By - Apr 11, 2018

It was my guy Keith. 

I used to drink and smoke weed with him when I didn’t have a job. 

‘Crazy Keith.’

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Passing/Failing

By - Apr 9, 2018

I am going to bring a great deal of criticism on myself.

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