Monthly Archives: September 2013

The Bottom Line

                  after Norman Dubie Already, an internal catfight, to include, to not include the lines from the poem this poem will presently and blatantly rip-off— don’t, goes the voice of my teacher … Continue reading

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Possession

The whole wandering, repetitive, occasionally bloated mass of Lady Chatterley’s Lover is worth it for Mellors last letter to Connie, I type, and click send, just as my son wakes screaming at 11 pm on a Saturday night. And  as … Continue reading

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As Lovely & Fucked-up as the 4th of July

In the same way that I am tempted to end this poem with the wind fluttering the white curtain through my open bedroom window, I am sure that somewhere, some time, Jefferson was a good man who truly lived—peeling, in … Continue reading

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Another Distant Asshole

Out there, smoking, on the deep blue sea, dicking around on the horizon, alive like that statue of Apollo you met at the Louvre— I’m in love! you told your sister, mocked a swoon: those long white tender arms to … Continue reading

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