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Vegetable fuchsia but faded, gilt
gone bad from its season in Hell. Plucked up
with dirt on its cheek, petrified
as a rose shut. . .
The period hasn’t been invented yet.
Scribes in Greece went back the
opposite direction reaching the end. . .
You could almost call them a squad—sometimes as many as seven, when they all pitched in.
The knives are out for the Consumer Financial Protection Bureau
An interview with novelist Jarett Kobek
Pundits mine a chaotic Kentucky election for meaning