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{Chapter iv of Undermind} "What do you think of the light in our city at night?" It spreads out in every direction, following the hills and valleys of the city, visible into the far distance from the Penthouse party room on the 44th floor. "Gorgeous!…
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Incredibly he began to picture in his mind a scene not related at all to his frenzied search but of a huge plate of apple pie a la mode with the vanilla ice cream melting in streams like cool lava down the side of the pie and off of the plate.
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I watch my brother carry her into the hospital, and I love him with parts of myself I didn’t know were capable of love. I love my brother with the space behind my eyes, the skin between my fingers, the ends of my hair, the crease in my neck. I love him wi
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They stood at the intersection waiting for the light to change so they could cross the highway.
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Call him a hobo or homeless or bum or junkie.
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Their bodies, ripe uncovered flesh, had begun to erode, the edges of their limbs and cores bitten, taken by the wind in small pieces, flaking and tearing, some parts sliding, falling away.
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And without further ado, The Author.
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“It’s about basic working conditions!” she says, rubbing ice cubes on her nipples.
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“Sometimes when I feel the urge to create, I don’t know whether to grab my paints, my camera, my guitar or my pen.”
“You could have sex,” her friend, sitting in the desk next to hers, joked.
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She thrust her proboscis through seven layers of dermis and began to suck, filling her belly with his Welbutrin and Xanax infused blood.
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4. A pig's orgasm lasts 30 minutes.
> > (In my next life, I want to be a pig.)
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Once, when I had not talked to you in a long time, I woke with your name in my mouth.
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Somewhere a banjo, somewhere a hound.
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Travel into the beautiful swirling being you occupy whenever you get the chance. It's your right to seek the name of the most holy one in your deepest awakening. Then will you most likely find fellow travelers splashing about in their naked auras in…
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Billy had crystal blue eyes A small mouth And long hair to cover up his Hearing aids. He told me once, with his hands How he liked to submerge His head in water and yell So loud he could feel it. "I can hear myself that way," he…
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The man of a thousand faces was defunct.
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When i close my eyesI see the faces of the deadI hear their voices The things they said, their laughter The ones i thought would live forever!! Something got them though: the ones who lived fastIt was a drug, some bullets, a disease I thought they would live forever!!Those…
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He had coal black hair the day he died. He claimed to be part French, no doubt the offspring of a Swedish girl and a French soldier, although Ole did not mention this.
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The air is dry and smoky from a fire some miles away. The air is cool. A pair of vultures is soaring in a circle high above the rising land.
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poets can kill, or at least they once could:/
perhaps poems tamed us, if they are any good.
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Lighter-than-air flight was back. The skies of the coast were alight with colorful balloons, dirigibles, and zeppelins tethered to their docking towers along the beach, the huge aircraft bobbing in the breeze up and down the coast for miles,…
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“He spent four lonely days in a brown L.A. haze, and now Jimmy Buffet is dead.” —Brian Williams, NBC Nightly News “Jimmy Buffet—beloved parrot-head singer-songwriter—has given up his search for that lost shaker of salt. He…
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As children we invent games and we're really creative. We concoct ridiculous rules and enjoy making adaptations to them. And everything makes sense. Then you grow up, lose creativity. You don't invent games anymore. Recess is replaced with a second…
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To what better worlds remain.
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“Phennias Jessup is his name. That’s his death’s head scroll, an hourglass, bats, spirals and angel’s wings on either side of the top part of the stone. "
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In San Francisco, there rides at night a phantom streetcar whose driver is none other than Walt Whitman . . .
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When the world is quiet, all your thoughts demand attention.
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“Why do I have to sign these cards? You haven't written your dreaded holiday letter yet.” “I told you not to complain or you'd be the one writing it. And addressing the envelopes. Then you can stamp them and take them to the Post Office!” …
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