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Hell, the universe expands until it dies. Why not me?
Everything, she thought, is an accident of where you are.
To those who go on incomplete, carrying yesterday in trembling hands.
What were you thinking about so hard?
Blink, blink: I love you. Blinkity-blink: I am your Sweetheart.
We come to the big city Denver, big protest rally.
It is no longer His Fault. It is mine.
I’d finally seen a painting about the world I lived in.
Dandelions gently floating through the air, turning into stars.
My sister wants to go to an American university. If she can go, I will play.
She’ll be crying about her mama, saying she’s gone and do I remember when we were kids?
Stacks of new writing from the glossy print & digital magazine.
This was the hellishly hot week I was let go.
I can’t remember if we could go home.
Let me raise a glass of bubbly to going bankrupt and living solo.
Katherine reminded me that I was still worthy of love and respect.
An old woman on the bus is knitting something enormous.
That day was a deep green dream that I hold tight.
I’m here to pick up the painting.
My father tells my abuelo he’ll leave the island and never come back.
Do you value your phone more highly than your life?
What’ll I do? Guess I’ll travel some.
The circle breaks—scooting back, we open a space for her.
I really want to hug you, but I won’t. But I want you to know that I want to.
Se me está agotando el tiempo.
We wasn’t doin nothin, just shootin hoops on the roof.
Bukowski said that there was everything and nothing.
Surface tension, that’s what it is.
Ferryman, ferryman, I paid your heavy fee.
He could forgive the sins of everybody, especially President Nixon.
There is a story here. Perhaps just not the one you’re looking for.
Most of my classmates are taking science courses. Me, I prefer Shakespeare.
Nobody had jobs for him today, except someone who wanted him to rob a bank.
What happened to you, man? What happened to that passion?
I want to be like you. Another shot. Why don’t you love me? Shot.
Yeah, but Mercy, he lives on the other side of the ocean.
My mother has been missing for nine days now. Not dead, but missing.
In times like these men turn to desperate measures. Can you blame them?