Sailing under the guidance of a feather

Rosemary still loves, she says, “on condition.” a car arrives. Rosemary receives it. garment: clean (minus the mysteries). she is dialed in; fresh. I move on swishing round the pavement of alleys to waves. a sign blinks: “VICTORY DON’T SLEEP” I look around, check my pockets. “LIVE EXTRA  G NTLY” the neon goes dark. things … More Sailing under the guidance of a feather

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she thought of painting fire

the radio plays.             Books pages words press hard.             Life is sucking the marrow out of me,             she says and struggles to find             the smile that usually accompanies irony. the saxophone sings.             She can no longer connect             the photograph with the image in the mirror on the wall.             She … More she thought of painting fire

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convolutions.

A few light taps upon the pane made him turn to the window. It had begun to snow again. He watched sleepily the flakes, silver and dark, falling obliquely against the lamplight…His soul swooned slowly as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, … More convolutions.

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STARVE: a note-poem for the hungry. (to be interpreted as variously as possible.)

PART I:  In which we analyze and attempt to understand the most basic level of need–hunger–and the outcome of failing to meet this need. starve verb \ˈstärv\ starved | starv·ing Definition of STARVE intransitive verb 1          a : to perish from lack of food b : to suffer extreme hunger 2          a archaic : to die … More STARVE: a note-poem for the hungry. (to be interpreted as variously as possible.)

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have your ghost meet my ghost in the room at the end of the hall.

the walls are closing in, we agreed. hills like white trumpet calls the sand storms dune we hope sun-soaked beneath bare feet; I dream of a collaborative tropical escape: run busted hand up mended leg; fuck it all away. it’s a million o’clock in late February and the Sirens sound off across the polar vortex. … More have your ghost meet my ghost in the room at the end of the hall.

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Blood & Speed

If everything seems under control, you’re just not going fast enough.                              – Mario Andretti Yes, Mario, you turned some tight corners at very high speeds. And so have I, for that matter. But there’s always a great fear when you start closing in on the top of the hill, because you never know what craziness … More Blood & Speed

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Writing for Writers: Poetry, James Joyce, and the Arc of Absurdity

One night last week I was having drinks with a close friend I hadn’t seen in a while. We proceeded to catch up on how things were going with work, with our romantic relationships, our families, mutual friends, the whole standard ticket. At some point in the evening, things turned to talk about writing—as they … More Writing for Writers: Poetry, James Joyce, and the Arc of Absurdity

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The Land of Nod

“Larry,” Glenn said, “I know what this means for you, but I want to die.” Larry and Glenn were brothers and although they often annoyed one another they were as close as two brothers could be, so naturally Larry was terrified to hear this. Not because it was the first time Glenn had mentioned killing … More The Land of Nod

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