Blogs
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National Poetry Month: Day 16. “The Blue” by Camille Dungy
The Blue One will live to see the Caterpillar rut everything they walk on—seacliff buckwheat cleared, relentless ice plant to replace it, the wild fields bisected
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DEAR SUGAR, The Rumpus Advice Column #32: It’s So Much Easier to Be the Blowjob Queen
Ask yourself instead: What has been given to me? Ask: What do I have to give back?
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The Last Book I Loved: Just Kids
I finished reading Just Kids by Patti Smith at Four Barrel on Valencia Street in San Francisco and although I tried my hardest to blink them back, tears kept falling out of the corners of my eyes onto my cheeks…
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National Poetry Month: Day 15. “Stonecrop” by Don Share
Stonecrop In the crop of stone, your ink was ripe.
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National Poetry Month: Day 14. “My Father Finally Says Out Loud the Word I’ve Only Heard Him Think” by Stacey Lynn Brown
My Father Finally Says Out Loud the Word I’ve Only Heard Him Think Calling it a rehab center doesn’t change this nursing home, doesn’t daub dry the drool or bring the unfocused wheelchair bound back
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THE BLURB #15: The Monster Impulse
The panic that pervades these stories arises because in our real, human world there is too much cause for fear and worry. Who, exactly, is responsible for the deteriorating environment? What, precisely, causes terrorism? Enter the bugbears and scapegoats.
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National Poetry Month: Day 13. “Epilogue” by Ben Mazer
Epilogue It is youth that understands old age and your repulsion is but a projection an image of the loathing you obtain.
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Ted Wilson Reviews the World #31
SKID MARKS ★★★★★ (5 out of 5) Hello, and welcome to my week-by-week review of everything in the world. Today I am reviewing skid marks.
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National Poetry Month: Day 12. “An Excursion” by Mary Biddinger
An Excursion I wrote your name backwards on my hand until it hurt.
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National Poetry Month: Day 11. “Schematic” by T. R. Hummer
Schematic Inside the machine is another machine which refers to the machine enclosing it. So he touches her hand, and the image of a child emerges.
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National Poetry Month: Day 10. “Gulls at Todd’s Point” by Annie Finch
Gulls at Todd’s Point Shivering, knowing how lines of the tide use seaweed, and sea-drift, and sea-touch (and bone) to etch with, I wait to be marked on the sand
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FUNNY WOMEN #21: Is That a Rabbit in Your Pocket, or Are You Just Trying to Date Me?
I’m sorry. It may be wrong to judge people based on their ideas and expectations, but I just wouldn’t date a magician.