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The End of the Hanging Basket
“Mr. Stone was commissioned by the mayor of London to design a “dry garden†of plants and flowers that use less water because England, widely associated with drizzle, is actually drying up.†“LONDON IS SO DRY,†Wall Street Journal, July 2006 I Like a noon time drunkard one day they drank too much. Even the…
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Lightning Can Mean Everything
There is a stop light in front of Weston Autobody; in evening the autoshop light sears mechanics. Some stand – columns – and hold cars with outstretched fingers. One hangs like a bodied hammock another is a bowed branch. The light colors them into not-yet-shed virgins, discovered about to uncover something known. It is inappropriate…
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Word of the Day
It has been a week of nouns weakening in applicability, often adjunct and defunct; this acronym owes more, to us, than onus. Mill mountain, noun, is promised to purge even itself, last sold in 1633, last whispered in Winchester, the fluxing flax chalked off. Info-bot is both proper and not, noun; Nunlets puff out grey,…
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The Anniversary
We need a number to plot our love, to propose a first THC, whiskey fake lust romp as love or it would be to us, also, the night a boy walked through a glass door like magic, with sound. When we eat and only talk to the waiter I roll through recorded dates, the first…
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Smoke that Thunders
A hump of grass bulges into the spray of Victoria Falls is one of the world’s seven Wonders are easier to count than to Think of the woman on the bulge Gardens usually accept water like hands into a Hand shakes when her umbrella leans under Water is halted in a bottleneck Here tourists snap…
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Two Poems
On Conception Love making ends bottoms in seats – Virgin beginning from another virgin taken, And all hands on 12-day old heart beats. Or pre-determined Dates, earmarked for ovial optimism By women of long aching maternity, are vesicles of syncopated fornication. Or shouts: “It’s hot as hell” On a night built of steam, the sex…