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Ghosts

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Some ghosts are women, neither abstract nor pale, their breasts as limp as killed fish. Not witches, but ghosts who come, moving their useless arms like forsaken servants. Not all…

Funnel

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The family story tells, and it was told true, of my great-grandfather who begat eight genius children and bought twelve almost-new grand pianos. He left a considerable estate when he…

Frenzy

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I am not lazy. I am on the amphetamine of the soul. I am, each day, typing out the God my typewriter believes in. Very quick. Very intense, like a…

For The Year Of The Insane

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a prayer O Mary, fragile mother, hear me, hear me now although I do not know your words. The black rosary with its silver Christ lies unblessed in my hand…

For My Lover, Returning To His Wife

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She is all there. She was melted carefully down for you and cast up from your childhood, cast up from your one hundred favorite aggies. She has always been there,…

For Johnny Pole On The Forgotten Beach

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In his tenth July some instinct taught him to arm the waiting wave, a giant where its mouth hung open. He rode on the lip that buoyed him there and…

For John, Who Begs Me Not To Enquire Further

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Not that it was beautiful, but that, in the end, there was a certain sense of order there; something worth learning in that narrow diary of my mind, in the…

For God While Sleeping

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Sleeping in fever, I am unfair to know just who you are: hung up like a pig on exhibit, the delicate wrists, the beard drooling blood and vinegar; hooked to…

Flee On Your Donkey

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Because there was no other place to flee to, I came back to the scene of the disordered senses, came back last night at midnight, arriving in the thick June…

End, Middle, Beginning

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There was an unwanted child. Aborted by three modern methods she hung on to the womb, hooked onto I building her house into it and it was to no avail,…