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selected past writing at 42opus

 

The Chemist of the Zero Dolmen by NORMAN DUBIE

The wind tugs at the loose treeline.

Dark skiers push through fog—

the snow adjusts its many shrouds

while blind sled dogs awaken beside the river.


NAS FUT 1012.0 ↓ 31.5. The birches

slice a dull sun.

20 May 2010 | poetry

 

Geography, A Fable by SARA LEVINE

This story takes place years ago when every person was born with geographical destiny printed onto their skin—usually the bottom of the foot, sometimes a thigh or the back of the calf. If the words weren't clear—too faint, improperly formed, or with crucial letters missing—a family waited with great eagerness, checking the bottom of the foot (or the thigh or the back of the calf) every day to see what had emerged, the way one might peer into the murky bloom of a Polaroid. And although some believed a newborn's geographical destiny shouldn't matter, since it might be years before the child went off to meet it, in fact, to many people it did matter; so that parents whose geographical destiny was, for instance, Kansas City found it difficult to love without reproach a child born with the word Albuquerque across its knee.

When you go off to Albuquerque, they'd say, then you can have a skateboard. Or, Your father and I want a house, but we've got to save our money for phone bills and airfares. Oh, what do you care, soon you'll be running off to Albuquerque.

23 May 2008 | fiction, short story

 

pessimism? or robotics? by TAO LIN

i am able to sit through an extremely funny movie

without making a noise or changing my facial expression


i am incapable of laughing without trying to laugh

4 July 2005 | poetry

 

Double Lanes by PAUL CORMAN ROBERTS

Near the old Jefferson Airplane mansion, in back of a cab on the right side, drunk on more than wine, I'm looking over at the sedan next to us. The passenger is the stellar blonde replica of a porn star/exotic dancer of some repute.

2 March 2003 | fiction, flash fiction

 

To John Taylor on February 27, 1818 by JOHN KEATS

…but it is easier to think what Poetry should be than to write it…

9 April 2005 | nonfiction, classic, letter, poetic theory

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