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The blood was staining his ceiling again. Levi crumpled the notebook page in frustration and tossed it over his shoulder. It landed a foot away from the small wire trashcan in the corner. He got up from his desk. How the fuck
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A broken stone corral formed the base of the remains of an old fort. Pink, gray slab. Dead grass and tall, crooked trees seemed to move by
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I turn around, turn around for the worse
If you’re talking about reliving things,
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“Boy you look like your mommy din’ love ya. Like maybe your daddy hit you one too many good ones upside the skull.” He gave a laugh that so
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SEARS TOWER, CHICAGO, 3:23 PM OCTOBER 6
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We are naked in her bed making love and the whine of the tornado siren mixes with the nasally cadence of John Darnielle, my favorite singer. She stops nibbling my ear to ask me:
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We hit the rode and we kept going west Couldn’t shake the feeling of dread off of my chest,
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She held her head high when she poured the shots into the double-glasses, as if to let it be known that she did not belong in here with the rest of us. Her hair, brown and on fire with natural streaks of strawblonde, had gray
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Eddie had profound dementia and thought I was his Saint Bernard that had been dead for three decades. Mrs. Kincaid talked of nothing except
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much as the infant nurses a bottle of formula
-
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I think that the closest I've ever come to perfection is when you told me that I was your spine.
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An Epson projector, waste of electricity. Words I've seen hundreds of times before,
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Mexican sun the same that day as in Kalamazoo
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The fire spread to the balcony, and the only difference between you and me
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Stream of unconsciousness, red and black river boiling over
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Sexual harassment directed toward students,
tight, tattered t-shirts and taped up wrists
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He knew these woods. The oak trees. The evergreen pines, their needles a mixture of bitter mint and sap. The dead leaves that coated the gr
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Strange overhead trajectories fulfilled basically backward
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Drink every weekend go to class when you have to,
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Out on the ocean and we're pretty much dead
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Candle burns down to its base
not enough stars
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Images
Burned onto my retinas
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I am trying to
cut my way through these cliches
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the cars and the trucks
behind the divider wall
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Your city's got rats
and it snows once a year
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You are doing that thing again.
The one you always do
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There's a birch tree in the sand,
surrounded by saw grass and jagged rock
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Writing lonely words
as I sit here
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I am the master of all things formal,
as I stand here
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Rancid sunday frozen dinners
Popping Vicodins
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Fold some coffee
Eat a rake
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Black bird far west side of town
sings a lonely tune, monotonous but nevertheless sweet,
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Milk, like blood
dripping down your forehead and into your eyes
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