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by
Donna Barkman
I can’t remember: scapula,
Cyclops, clavicle, derelict.
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by
Jerome Betts
I think that I shall never see
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by
Shirley J. Brewer
Men fork, women spoon.
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by
Michael Cantor
His friends and colleagues envy Gorian Dreigh -
prolific poet with a rugged look
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by
Catherine Chandler
I celebrate the great sardine
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by
Wiley Clements
I planted this vegetable garden for household use. My rows
run straight on, from fence to fence in lines of garden prose,
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by
Terese Coe
Am I a simp
because I’m single?
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by
Wesli Court
My boss pulled off the worst of his mean acts —
He handed me the glare, and then the axe.
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by
Wesli Court
I've got the old Department Meeting blues.
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by
Wesli Court
The waters where I swim are alga-green:
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by
Wesli Court
Shall I compare you to a summer day?
December’s closing in; we’re done with May.
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by
Wesli Court
How many dawns, chill from his rippling rest,
Does the poet count in Poseidon’s chest?
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by
Susan de Sola
Guillemets was going to Interpunct his Solidus
with a Bullet, or possibly a Dagger or Caret,
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by
Susan de Sola
Some say the world will end with frost,
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by
Rhina P. Espaillat
Poor mush I swatted with an angry hand
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by
Rhina P. Espaillat
The missionary impulse frankly leaves me unimpressed.
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by
Derek Fenton
Industrious dung beetle do you ever miss
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by
Jack Foley
Is an old woman courted by Incapacity.
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by
Max Gutmann
Can anyone make out
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by
Max Gutmann
Why clean a week's dust
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by
Max Gutmann
What's given us of actual existence?
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by
Max Gutmann
To die with a word
through which fame is assured
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by
R.S. Gwynn
Before the Prince bonks Mrs. Simpson
It is said that he knows all the pimps on
The length of the Strand,
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by
Ruth F. Harrison
I know of a puppy named Spot
who loves taking walks past a post.
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by
Clarinda Harriss
Bless his sweet ass, but
did he have a stroke?
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by
Clarinda Harriss
those Saxonized suffixes of lintels,
parged to perfection by professionals
in the builders’ guild--contemplates
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by
Daniel Hoffman
Gérard de Nerval’s ribbon led
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by
Jack Foley
Not even Dr. Blanche could tell
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by
Daniel Hoffman and Jack Foley
To make vanish the Elf-shot
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by
Elizabeth Johnson
Credit where due, I owe the most to booze.
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by
A.M. Juster
The headlines were unanimous
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by
A.M. Juster
Your uphill climb will never stop;
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by
A.M. Juster
When Mutual of Omaha supported
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by
Jean Kreiling
"What would it take to put you in this Taurus
today?" he asked. Of course I’d seen it coming:
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by
Jean Kreiling
She paused, uncertain how she wished to end
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by
Michele Leavitt
Don’t tell me you expect to buy a phone
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by
Duncan MacLaurin
The Board regrets to have to say your job has disappeared.
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by
Charlotte Mandel
It’s hard to keep one’s easy insouciance
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by
Susan McLean
How unpleasant to meet Mr. Poe.
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by
Mary Meriam
Now that I’m fifty, let me take my showers
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by
Richard Meyer
Some never finish wondering
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by
Richard Meyer
For love I willfully undress
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by
Cynthia Neely
It’s those whose flesh fits firm on limber frames
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by
Chris O'Carroll
The bulb that once lit up this room
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by
Chris O'Carroll
Yes, I remember Amsterdam.
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by
Jayne Osborn
The ebay window says [Commit to buy]
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by
Frank Osen
Quite late the morning-after, Common Sense
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by
Frank Osen
The gravid tourist van disgorges prey,
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by
Frank Osen
The first iconic photograph of war
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by
Alexander Pepple
We’re out for pandemonium in the zoos
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by
Noam D. Plum
Heroes don't keep diaries.
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by
Martin Rocek
'Do I have free will or not?'
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by
Martin Rocek
Why did the chicken fell the tree?
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by
Robert Schechter
There are three things my captive heart
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by
Robert Schechter
Synecdoche means when we name
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by
Robert Schechter
Yesterday the thought I thinkt
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by
Robert Schechter
Ashes to ashes,
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by
Ed Shacklee
Monkeys see and do like men.
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by
Ed Shacklee
The cruel little boy with a bow
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by
Neil Shepard
Seabrook was his baby. His middle name was safety. He could clean his kid’s diaper
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by
Neil Shepard
Uncle George made a million bucks selling real estate,
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by
David Slavitt
Motherless.
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by
Philip Sultz
If I can't solve the figure
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by
Carol Taylor
What could depend on a
red wheelbarrow?
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by
John Timpane
Much like the Mona Lisa,
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by
John Timpane
Something about the couch
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by
John Timpane
Wake up, get up, venture nearer;
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by
Catherine Tufariello
I wish I were some valley cheese,
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by
Catherine Tufariello
'My heart aches, and a drowsy' blah, blah, blah.
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by
Deborah Warren
Don’t tell me you expect to find a guy
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by
Tom Wayman
Nothing. When we realized you weren't here
we sat with our hands folded on our desks
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by
Tom Wayman
On my knees in tilled soil, I deposit
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-
by Tom Wayman An anomaly of nature
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by
Gail White
Your Uncle Harry doesn't know himself
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