In the woods, there are wolves. Trees affixed with eyes and rib-slick hunger. This is the season of their mating, the time of teeth and tongues at the base of mountains and hot houses of their hearts. We wait with pistols loaded.
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Stylish blonde hair. Dull green eyes. Manicured hands usher a couple into a small house. “So, this is it. It’s a great neighborhood. And . . . I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but there are a few great schools within a
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God’s asleep on the couch, and I don’t wanna wake her. She left the show early tonight, stuck around for my bit, but left before some of the others did theirs. Normally I’d hate this. I think it’s kinda crass. God’s all
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I never know when to stop. Moon Goes down, sun comes up. North wind South wind. Alarm clock chimes five. Ice melting on a blade of grass. You beside me should mean forever. You’re beside yourself without flowers. In my dream I’m
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Somewhere along the trail, this Flashlight becomes a femur, and I Take that for a sign. Like when moss Grows on the north side of trees Except when it grows on all sides. Or when the Big Dipper cannot Be spotted through
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At the end of the season, they killed. Together with Mark, the director—though it was more often than not only Paul—Mark had paperwork to shuffle in the office—they made light of the inventory. It was easier than finding them homes. The chicks
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Ghosts sit at the picnic table feasting on chili. They eat the chili out of paper bowls with corn chips. There are no toppings like shredded cheese or chopped onions, though some pass around a bottle of Tapatío. Tiny flies swarm and
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Love is like a yard. It takes work with a red rusty wheelbarrow, clippers, and a new rake to keep it beautiful. It is the root of all happiness. The flowering greenery. Danny P. Barbare resides in the Upstate
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—in friendly defiance of Robert Frost They say that even the universe makes music, a rumbling B-flat lower than anyone could ever hear. I think of God having a subwoofer hanging over the workbench in the garage. He takes it down
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The first time I saw them, I was looking at the sun. They were high on the rim of the canyon, in front of the sun, like black sticks. My mother told me they are the gods who walk on the rim
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