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Monthly Archives: September 2012
Hang Poe
An old cask of amontillado floats in Tokyo Bay while the House of Usher’s melting down Nagasaki way. My telltale heart lies beating on top of Mount Suribach’ dusting up rue Morgue Avenue and the paper house I watch.
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Landfilista
The garbage truck pulls up outside. The week begins in earnest.
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Jon Wolston's Poetry Archive 