absence has a simple scale nought or one distinct steps like piano notes joy and sorrow are parabolic mirror images glissando exponentials like the birth of your smile how you turn away when leaving the intensity of waiting is a constant a straight line that separates dimensions like...
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Giants

We are stars trying to collide, objects caught in our orbits dashed to rocks in process mean nothing; we merge. Made massive, other light is bent in our direction so we keep shadows hoarded under skin we share, no place for hidden hazards in paths plotted long before we were given names or...
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only we had the tickets to get into a Butthole Surfers gig after some idiot in the NME had put it out that tickets would be on the door that night a huge crowd had gathered outside the venue and there wasn't a single ticket valid except ours pushing through a tight...
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mixed media on canvas, 50 x 60 cm
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If you're lucky, you catch the early train If you're wise, you're early to bed To get up early to go back again Healthy, wealthy, and dead.
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Pity Sex

I was being a bit contrary when I named this ... one thing certainly does not seem to inform or be part of the other, title and picture ... and I kinda liked being that difficult and sort of...
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since I’ve dreamed anything that was not nightmare This spring with goslings in the roses, tulips and crocuses pushing color thru crystal ice, I hardly notice the wood ducks. I don’t hear geese in flight. I used to dream goose music, scan black ripples walking back from the pond. Before I photographed the last light glowing in dark woods the...
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Barfly

Mixed media on paper, 30 x 40 cm
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Kyoto is doing great, especially since the Kyotographie festival just started. As a photographer, I naturally always look forward to this event. Here's my personal contribution... —Mark Preier
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I couldn't help but smile when a bird outside our kitchen trilled "Whew whew whew!" Then it switched to "Wee-oop whee-oop whee-oop!" "Listen to that!" I cried aloud, as Kim kept chopping her kale. I went to the screen for a toke while the bird continued. The singing...
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lHlOTkrQ34 Melinda red blood in the white snow the curtains are dying ...and the things I used to know she drinks before noon wild black tequila, her only chance to make it through summer her daddy's at the bottom of the bottle and I don't know if...
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Awake the pollen grains and log each tiny particle gone with the wind onto our most secure of networks. There's notice served. It's time... smaller, smarter moving parts: our install base, a choice of legs or wings or wheels or blowin' in the wind;...
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The pinkie of your left hand is very small. You rarely ever finish almond milk, you make a face while eating cereal, always pull hair of older sister Tanu, and loudly scream when you return from school. Your curious heart beats like a metronome and...
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Lose your job, your mind, your husband step over the lines, off the map, into unmarked alleys Talk too fast, too much, too loud, or not at all Balk at the strangeness of ordinary things spot the dark intent behind their bland disguises Walk too close to the...
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Hairry

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In risking the dancing eyes of supermarket girls under fringes, or to chance the scanty graze on busy buses of a nyloned knee, or strappy shoulder, I zip-in some long-absent charmer lest I go running, in my best shoes, across fields to a dawn-wet door with...
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Ahmed’s Sparrow

Tiny winged corpse, trapped inside the aluminum frame of a storm window; Ahmed freed the frozen, fragile body with his pen in hopes that it would fly again; trees bereft of birdsong.
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Maria

I chase a cat who scampers across the beach. Her gait's mysterious; assured yet zigzag and every few moments she stops to tease. I pant and puff but carry on and on. She is anonymous. My mind is coming up with names. A Betty...
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"Rhymes in poems are dead," he said. I laughed and shouldered the bazooka, shook a Vicodin from the bottle and chased it with gin. (Now I'm all-in, you dig?) The room started to spin. I grabbed the mantle like...
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Fell asleep inside him after wind slipped through a window, found a crack into my absent mind. Tomorrow lurks around our edges, minutes fall down at our ears; a train, engine idle, takes him too far for comfort, too soon by far. Less tall when laying together more than...
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Most times though we’d sit with trays on our knees the microwave cartons full of steaming food too hot to touch at the edges and a tad too cold in the centre we ate with the blue grey haze of tv light painted across...
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We carefully handle our sub-zero Winter secrets. But like last year, they begin to dissipate from consciousness until, like barren tree limbs, we forget they ever held leaves. As sprinting daffodil spikes and tulip skewers burst through thawing soil, we unfold stale box...
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Unit 6

A couple of Bath Salts addicts moved in upstairs. Each night, the entire building can hear 'em eating each other's faces.
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The astronaut the man in the threadbare tweed says he’s laying low right now, coasting through, baby, paying off a few invisible debts to secondhand store angels, man, dodging the black holes, so to speak, shopping at the golden harp food mart every other day roaming the origami streets of Earth’s enfolded cities requesting a few quarks over in front of the Full Yum where they whisper how he’s lacking direction, and he...
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Double Dare

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Late last year I wrote a 10 sonnet sequence entitled New Muses for a Posthuman Age, the idea being to update the goddesses and answer the question: if they were still here today, what would they be doing? However I'm insufficiently female,...
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Untitled

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Scooter

held between his ankles, very bright orange t-shirt, plaid shorts I glance at him from the till. Don't know which suits me. I ask him to wear each pair of sunglasses and I'll tell him. He does, I tell him. Sunglasses cost £3.99. I...
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A man lays his hand on a woman. He sees through her eyes the golden-breasted songbird. The woman looks on the man and she thinks he will die. They wash, comb and perfume their hair; together they put on their clothes. Side by...
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we hung around Gothenburg for five months or so renting out an expensive apartment on Vingalandsgatan with a fabulous panoramic view over the Gothia River and went to three The Knife gigs trying every blag we knew to get backstage to meet Karin and her brother Olaf total mission but no...
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i never write to be read, i've always said. it was never a considered decision to hide my notebooks and scribbles from you unless you check my bag for money or cigarettes and just happen to find whatever collection of scrap i write on and...
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River Morning

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Eventually, we stop counting; the final bird of prey rips out the throat of the penultimate field mouse and dies soon after. Beyond its understanding, a trail off a meteor scrapes against fallen stratosphere, its terminal plunge. A man who once begged heaven for space, for time...
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I wanna grow up like my dad—planning to leave my wife with my mistress waiting in the gravel driveway at dusk. It would be January and I'd be running out the back door with my bags and a cigarette...
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Illustrations

Illustrations from the book Ghost Highway Blues, poetry by Matt Borczon, published by Alien Buddha Press.
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Bliss

I took out the darkness​ and added an em dash,​ for now​
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morning hillside fifty little goat butts winking at the sun ex-wife's razor  surprisingly good seemingly free Dry day, empty house—    the barely swinging door          applauds The wind blows—       not to move the trees             but the trees move tiny typewriter            tiny truths it is all here
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one day a year the sky turns violet motorcycle exhaust floats up and dissolves against a hard sun they rev their engines until their eyes turn to coal the missing brothers on the black wall are still gone
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Just a Faint Line

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was older than he looked, was impressed by the smell of his own farts, lied about everything, never held a job for long, ate everything, drank anything, and changed his shorts no more than once a week. Tony had 3 bad marriages, 4 shack-ups, and that one month he never cared to talk about. i liked Tony.
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Poem read by by Soodabeh Saeidnia in the Farsi translation she created: https://soundcloud.com/soodabeh-saeidnia/a-messiah-morning This is one of four Silent Lotus poems included in the bilingual anthology Persian Sugar in English Tea, Volume II, published in March 2018.
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My mind is a musty record crate. Schlepped around. Only exposed to monthly swap meets, and nostalgic nights. Brush decades of debris from my mental music (re)collection, hoping to add freshly-dug earworms to proven, fossilized melodies. Casting moldy bait in binary streams, I hook the next big...
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The day was so tender it almost broke (us) in two the buds on the trees lime-toned and ready to uncoil the doves not yet married, nestless A squirrel carried one of last year’s nuts around in his mouth, forgetting there would be new ones (We) wondered out...
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The sex falls in flecks and sputters as the limousine windows slide down ...
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The really efficient laborer will be found not to crowd his day with work, but will saunter to his task surrounded by a wide halo of ease and leisure. There will be a wide margin for relaxation to his...
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Glitch

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TIMOTHY

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Collision time

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One day on the back porch many years ago, catching some rays, sunning, as it were, after the wife had been fired for crimes against nature, self and child and the dream and the life and the job and the house and everything once loving to...
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Don’t ask me

for poetry, I can't give you poetry—I'm not one of those poets writing for four hour periods each morning with french-pressed coffee I can't give you words that will always make sense and fall into each other with perfect commas and strategy I spit these out like juicyfruit— and they always lose...
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I disappeared

into you and it felt like the womb I had left 5 days early. I crawled under you like winter cats in car tires I dropped my steel and stayed in your waters, risking air but I had your air I didn't need to hear words with your ears, but...
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The flame’s reflection on the television was so crisp like it was real and soon the stereo was on fire. Then the couch would light up and the smell would at least be pleasant, with strawberry and skunk meandering....
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From 1984–1987, I published the little magazine Clock Radio. Like many small ("little") literary magazines of the day, this one was produced on a shoestring, with nothing more than donated time, a typewriter, a xerox machine, and cover art help...
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What about us

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DOOR MAT

I can still remember how annoyed he got the first time I used it, “Door mat,” the way his mother let a brute of a man walk all over her. “Door mat”—you’d think I’d called his mother whore or bitch. Not strange, I went on, so many...
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F A M K E

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5NvHJSpI5Zs
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After

Steve Richmond was a mainstay of the American little magazine scene of the 70s and 80s. He gained notoriety not only for his extensive series of "gagaku" poems but also for his longtime association with poet Charles Bukowski. As...
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Machine Learning

Machine Learning by Zed-Point
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You can bitch about quality all you want & make your anal compulsive lists the best school the best fuck the best career the best italian sausage & then 30 years removed or maybe 40 you realize no one gives a fuck & neither do you so you sit down with a drink & a small stack...
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I need more

https://soundcloud.com/user-151672534/i-need-more-2018-edition
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Henry: This is a world where everybody’s gotta do something. Y’know, somebody laid down this rule that everybody’s gotta do something, they gotta be something. You know, a dentist, a glider pilot, a narc, a janitor, a preacher, all...
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Andrea

Oil Pastels, Colored Pencils, Graphite, Lithography Pencils, Bleed Proof White, Digital Paints on Photograph.  © 2011 Thomas Yarbrough
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The Bird

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hzwgB7EEZbU The bird circles endlessly in my room, in the half-light— comes close, carries the harsh carnival of his eye to mine, causing my neck to fall down in slices of yellow, my shoulder to reveal the five sleeping armies. The bird lands upon...
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Lo-Fi

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Hangman

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OMAHA

When fathers stopped wearing fedoras at ballgames unity and chaos wrestled in the mud.                               • When fathers stopped telling the old jokes quills grew on the tongues of their children.                               • When fathers stopped strangling ice picks cars sank in a traveling darkness.                               • When fathers stopped building...
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Jimmy

Just got off the phone with my Uncle Jim 2 years, 11 months, and 14 days in FCI Memphis behind him. He’s the one who taught me how to play drums. Spent thousands of rounds failing to get me interested in guns. Took me seriously as a teenager, listened patiently expecting I...
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Ku Mi Ko

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Moving Day

Lena, across the street on her porch step clutching her robe closed against the afternoon sun. ashtrays neat stacked full of half smoked Kents. in her bedroom a real live slot machine sprayed nickles when you never won. Lena’s buoyancy declined absent my mom floating her tab at the China...
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Have Made It

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UnoTelwXuww
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MA RI A

https://www.youtube.com/watch?time_continue=78&v=3AIzoMJURAE
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I don't wanna pay April's rent I just got an email (and they never send them) that said Hey, don't forget to pay April's rent. I was going to pay the rent like I always do but now since they sent me that I...
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Field Poppies

1. 2. Watercolour on L'Aquarelle Canson Heritage Block 300gsm cold pressed. Watercolour paper - 51cm x 34cm.
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https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WZd4Ats7DRI
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Visual Kei

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You Never Asked

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