Month: June 2012
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My dear friends
*Disclaimer: I didn’t reread this so take no responsibility for its content* Sizzling potatoes and their golden smell wafting from the kitchen; Pat is still asleep after a long, wonderful birthday/going away party he and my dear friends threw for me last night. This week has exhausted me like a labor. I was trying not…
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Last day at work
On my last day at work I’ve: gotten a rejection, but a very nice rejection for 5 poems, eaten two pieces of pizza, got a card from co-workers, drank a sprite, cleaned out my desk of saltine crackers, recycled irrelevant health insurance documents, backed-up all my work on an electronic stick whose name is escaping…
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This product may contain allergens
Feeling my teeth break into peanut meat is the most pleasing thing I’ve done all day.
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Follow the yellow brick road
I’m supposed to be looking at routes to take for my journey, then relay those routes to my mom who will then go to AAA to get maps – real live paper maps that no one uses anymore because we all have smart phones – at least one person out of 2 in a vehicle…
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Smart Phone
Clouds distort in the sky’s fish eye. Washing oil sheen from my hands, they prism momentarily, dull just as quickly in Orwellian florescents. I think I’m becoming machine. Plugged in at the nap of my neck, sleeping next to a time bomb on my nightstand plotting domination with Facebook pokes. How many likes does it…
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89 and counting
My Grandma, Bernice, is 89 today. No one is as independent. No one loves seals and birds and cats and polar bears as much. No one hates George W. more. No one picks as many raspberries or plants as many bulbs. No one reuses as much tin foil. She has taken care of Big Mama…
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Ugly, you whispered, to me you are beautiful
I cannot change the ugly sounds that once scalded my throat. One kick, one slammed car door, one yell I would have run. Steady rain licked red dirt I watched neighbors’ porch lights weave in winded trees through the window. You kissed my chest and, in me, the ugliness needing to be horse-broken. You had…
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Nothing is ever tied up in bows.
How can one desk absorb an echo? One chair muffle the sound of space? Of emptiness? I tiptoed around the room as if I might wake a baby, my once soft steps became cavernous without wood and pulp to grab hold of them. All that’s left in my writing room is a broom, a vacuum…
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One week to launch
A storm seized the house this morning. Pouring rain, lightning jolting me out of sleep like a flat-lining patient: I left my half-dry clothes on the clothes line last night. Shit. Second washes never hurt, I guess. Who needs to wear pants anyway? This is my last week in Wilkes-Barre, PA. I’m starting to freak…