1897 7 2
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"My dear man. We are not friends we are symbiotic."
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1897 0 0
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—with spinster goddesses in the middle of things / circling looms.
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1897 6 6
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Little rambling soul,/kind guest, friend: leave me laughing,/pallid stiff, and bare.
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1897 0 0
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One day me an' Elvis was down at the riverbank with Huckleberry, chasin' darters an' watchin' barges go by. It was a lazy day bein' a Sunday an' all. We had jest got back from Church an' Mami told me to change my clothes so's that I didn't get my Sunday
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1897 11 9
|
They both have an annoying habit. She talks to him while she's in another room, and he doesn't answer because he can't hear what she's saying.
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1897 7 2
|
It’s not just the mailman. It’s the logo on the mailbox down the street. It’s the uniform. It’s any man or woman in the whole unsettling profession.
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1897 6 5
|
They’re persistent, I’ll give them that. They keep coming. And coming and coming.
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1897 4 1
|
“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…
|
1896 12 9
|
The bus is late; the papers disappear.
The china breaks, and the suit does not fit.
|
1896 13 10
|
the ugliness will not be denied
|
1896 27 14
|
Your writing offended the editors greatly, and we would select certain word choices we disliked, but we truly hated every word, including mere articles, prepositions, and conjunctions.
|
1895 1 1
|
Amid the swerve and pulse of hungry bodies Girma Dali picks his spot, a tissue-wide patch of net where's he going to strike. A green-jerseyed defender closes in on him his brute momentum unleashed like a kamikaze pilot swooping into enemy orbit, his lunging body makes…
|
1895 8 3
|
love notes yellowed through the years
|
1895 14 12
|
I have nothing in me but a raw loneliness right now. It's as if someone whirl-winded me out of the sky into the middle of the ocean in the middle of the red faced night. My fate seems immobile, sealed, doomed to a rocking nothingness, like…
|
1895 0 0
|
Reining her small hands around the molded handle grips, her bottom bouncing athwart and wildly off the seat, Symphony wrenches her center of gravity inward, commandeering as much control from the road it would allow. With her breaks behaving as stubborn
|
1895 19 9
|
the constant inner jabber
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1895 11 8
|
“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.
|
1895 15 14
|
it was your hands—caked
with years-old clay & quaking
from too much solitude
|
1895 1 2
|
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.
|
1895 1 1
|
Graeme King was disturbed. He sat at his desk feeling his bloodshot eyes rolling backwards, impatient, leaden in their sockets. Could he believe what he had just seen? Surely not. Surely the late nights spent absorbing the relentless pulse of his computer screen…
|
1895 6 5
|
This is Jorge. He was a good little monkey. And always curious.Like the time he and his friend, the man in the amarillo sombrero, had to fly to Japan. *Jorge sat by the window. Watched the ground get further away. Until they were above the clouds. He looked out…
|
1895 0 0
|
His mouth smiled but his icy eyes did not. "You like it?," he asked with a thin deflated voice. "Old family recipe. Enjoy."
|
1895 18 12
|
There's a man sitting in my room holding a jar of my ashes. That's what he claims.
|
1895 9 8
|
By Jackson, you called and said, I'll be too drunk to drive. Hell, if I do my very best, I could be blind by Shreveport.
|
1895 9 9
|
They sat before the fire and played cribbage. He was a good player, but not as good as she was.
|
1895 4 1
|
fated and cruel, a person I don't love
|
1895 0 0
|
“Have you heard about Lucius?” The lawyer turned to the carpenter. “They say he's gone mad. Just gone; the madness of the gods.” Sitting in the barbershop were the former two, one in his forties and the other of his fifties; a gray-haired…
|
1895 2 3
|
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1895 3 0
|
the white moon is dangling
by a thread tonight
you close your eyes
and listen to it undress
and suppress, suppress
you listen to it undress
while you yourself hang lifeless
in your own arms
not meaning to do yourself any
harm, not
|
1894 6 4
|
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