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Table of Contents
Wiser Than Someone a World Away
All golf games end at the clubhouse.
Diary of a Russian Immigrant
The street was full of children searching for sweets...
The Age of Love
Three poor women vie for the affections of a hot young millionaire!
Fly-Over Country
For O Thiam Chin
On Ocular Oversight
He died a Double-Death
"I was wild, too..."
Candy and the Porno
...the process on one I read about in a Bukowski book.
November 22
My mom stared at the TV with her mouth open.
How it Went Down
...but with Billy it was different.
Losing the days after he died I was a ragged raft at sea...
On Coughing being stabbed with jabbing, knifing, cold air.
....took her to a twisted Dali-esque landscape...
Writing High
That’s some catch, that Catch 22
Nine Minutes and Ten Seconds
...the memory of that moment...
The Interminable Kiss
Narrow, serpentine, and befuddling...
Kate Gilmore: Performance at MECA
Share:Over this past summer, the Institute of Contemporary Art at Maine College of Art (ICA at MECA) in Portland, Maine exhibited a survey of Kate Gilmore’s artwork, bringing together videos from 2004 until the present.  In conjunction with her solo show at the ICA, Museum Director, Daniel Fuller commissioned a new performance staged in Portland’s Monument Square.   
Rose Petals in a Blue Bowl and others
Share: Rose Petals in a Blue Bowl A swatch of sunlight slips over my shoulder. On the wall a reflection of steam rises from my tea- like smoke from a small fire or the spiral from your cigarette just before you touched my arm. * * * Revenge It’s like big, fat Danny Garrido and my fly weight brother, Butchie, fighting on the sidewalk in front of St.
What I’ve Lost and others
Share: What I’ve Lost A taste for Southern Comfort. Umbrellas: two in a week when I was down to eight bucks in the bank halfway to payday and rain in the forecast, tail end of a hurricane that blew through Cuba, kissed the coast of Florida and ricocheted into Philly where its gray buttocks of sky squatted over us for days.
Soul Mates and others
Share: Soul Mates When the first mosquito bites the day, there is room here next to me.  Lend a pole I’ll fish with you and watch the lines you’re looking for.  While we wait for fish to hit, we’ll share the tales that grow in length and breadth like loaves and fishes, mounds of olives stuffed with rinds.
In the Next Booth at the Diner and others
Share: In the Next Booth at the Diner She said, “Remember when you liked me more than crack?” and he said, “It’s only cause I hadn’t met crack yet,” and when she huffed and tried to leave the booth he grabbed her arm, and pulled her back and said, “We have to talk about the dog, remember?” and she said “I thought we were talking about the dog,” and he said, “We have to finish talking about the dog,” and she said, “So fucking finish talking about the dog,” and he said, “So stop being a giant cunt and I will,” at which point, in a single sweeping movement of her arm she knocked every single thing off the table, and the cups and plates broke against the floor, and the coffee flew up and stained my pants, and the silverware clattered, and we weren’t overhearing anymore, we were paying rapt attention, and he said, “You’re paying for that you, you bitch,” and she said, “Pick up the tab yourself, asshole,” and not one single person tried to stop her as she left.