1709 7 2
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"I know," Timothy explained, "he can't use it. He's a cripple." No one else seemed to understand.
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1709 12 8
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"Stop watching the news!Because the news contrives to frighten youTo make you feel small and aloneTo make you feel that your mind isn't your own"--MorrisseyThe world has gone crazy, but please let me make you One of my healing songs. You can eat it now, if you…
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1709 1 2
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And I just want to say that my morning song is better than yours. I want you to hear it buzzing in me like an old radiator. I want you to do what you’ve done before. To press your ear against the skin and listen for the static.
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1709 7 4
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“Lunge to your right,” the woman on the screen instructs. She is easily six-months pregnant but still looks fit and healthy. “Now show off your baby.” She centers herself, splays her arms, and thrusts her belly out towards us. “Lunge to the left. Now show
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1709 11 4
|
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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1709 4 4
|
Why you keep a razor blade in your stocking?
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1709 18 12
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She had loved sleeping in Todd’s arms at night, hearing the soft tinkle of crystal above her when cool drafts moved through the house, his hand wandering over the swell of her belly.
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1709 6 5
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I know she's a dog person, as she owns one.
“No, my asshole ex-boyfriend wanted one and then he left me with it.” she admits, then adds,
“I don't even like dogs. All dogs are needy.”
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1709 11 8
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The wind has no voice
and yet we listen,
perhaps imagining the ramblings
of a mad man
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1709 21 7
|
55 words, slightly naughty
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1709 1 0
|
I don't really know, though. I've been locked in a beer cave for the last ten years of my life. I was just let out by some frat boys who were looking for Natty Light.
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1708 13 11
|
The hair on my arms have greyed, or so that's how it looks to me. It's been 12 years since we last spoke. I think I haven't aged too well. I bought a rocking chair.
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1708 18 17
|
Buddy was in a garage band. They were pretty good. “Soul Harbor“ they called themselves.
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1708 4 0
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“Hey,” I begin, a naughty smile breaking across my face before I can get to the punchline, “Want to drive around flipping off anyone with a Romney bumper sticker?”
Kaleb chuckles and beams at me. It seems everyone likes a good girl turned naughty.
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1708 6 5
|
They’re persistent, I’ll give them that. They keep coming. And coming and coming.
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1708 7 5
|
“Ah Willie! Ah my boy! You poor sweet faced youth. Gone now! Our memories, Willie, our memories will haunt us forever with your laughter, your joy, your enduring excuses, your misspellings & badly slanted penmanship. Oh Willie. My boy. Gone & gone f
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1708 10 9
|
poets can kill, or at least they once could:/
perhaps poems tamed us, if they are any good.
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1707 6 6
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When she finally arrived it was like a cello playing inside me
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1707 8 4
|
Fred's ruined face stared back at him from a fractured, mold-spotted mirror. The remains of breakfast pooled around his feet and a pair of lace panties clung to his shoe, glued there by God knew what. Bits of flesh were stuck between his yellow teeth, alo
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1707 0 0
|
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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1707 6 5
|
He checks the bedrooms first,
then the hallway,
followed by the living room
and the bathrooms.
When he can't find you he takes to calling out,
daddy,
I'm sure the neighbors hear.
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1707 6 2
|
So, when Daddy grabbed that cock by the neck and threw him into the hole that he quick covered with dirt, I knew right then that men would play a subservient role in my life going forward.
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1707 22 14
|
The night we crossed the Madres my father stuffed his Stetson full of cash.
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1706 17 10
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Ancestry.com The Liverpool census in 1851 lists him:Thirteen years old, Irish. Occupation: beggar. Only that. I will do more for him.I will see him in torn jacket and too-short pants singing all day of the fields, the cliffs,…
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1706 13 4
|
His hands go up and down on me. You love me don't you he says. I don't know I say.
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1706 1 1
|
Of all the things Shelly hated about her job, the music was the worst.
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1706 3 3
|
First, the title: How George Bush And the Lovely Danielle Saved Planet Earth From Zork the Galactic Destroyer. A little unwieldy perhaps but still, a grabber. Already you're thinking, George Bush? Saving Earth? Did he die by his own fucking hand?…
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1705 3 2
|
The smell of candy and burn... /A patriotic prose poem for the fourth of July.
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1705 4 2
|
He returned to America on the Fourth of July. Twisting in his cramped window seat miles above the Atlantic, he buckled up before the descent. “You can handle this,” he muttered. Hungover, still reeling from the dreamy head-turning experience of…
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1705 4 0
|
There was that long weekend she'd spent lazing around a suite at the Beverly Wilshire between the Golden Globes and the Oscars with the suddenly now married actor, and then there had been Cabo. This was before the current thing and before the thing before
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