1718 14 13
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The one-legged crow was back in the yard again today, as it was yesterday and may have been before, but yesterday was the first time I noticed it among the murder while using the binoculars that I often use to bring things closer, things like these iridescent and beautiful…
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1718 3 1
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1. there's nothing more to say about it and I don't want to be drawn2. beautiful she couldn't hear me anyway I was desperate and there were moths3. they'd replaced his head with a picture of the moon he looked4. none of them were speaking English more like a ticking a…
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1718 0 0
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Astrid hadn't always hated him.
They met at the Beta house in the fall of his junior year. Typical Friday night. Stoned, drinking beer. He and Red Chapman sitting in their room playing guitars. The girls in their blues jeans. The guys from the house hi
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1718 18 14
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There are things we must not say.
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1718 7 6
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He leans in close then, close enough that when he speaks, his words tiptoe out and tuck me in.
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1718 1 1
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1718 6 6
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Learned & wealthy but slowly going mad
from seeing, he did the only thing he could/he turned to love
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1718 2 0
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I paused in case she said more. Then, “He’s very faint but he wants to talk.”
She leaned forward, chin almost resting on the grey-haired woman in front of her. “Tell him to shout.”
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1718 17 14
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This morning I heard her downstairs trying to get away silently. I knew she would write a short goodbye note. I knew it would tell me her reason for leaving —she had to be free of my indifference. I dressed, finished my coffee, backed out of the driveway and went to…
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1717 13 9
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neon carrots and atomic tangerines
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1717 15 13
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I am eternal/
as long as the power holds
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1717 7 2
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The guy stretches out his arm as he rounds up the herd of ducks that only want to bob. He pulls down his sleeve over a heart tattoo, faded from being seen so many times. It’s a skinny sort of heart tattoo, an askew heart from where I stand, an arrow fro
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1717 2 1
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How could you run from me now?
The loneliest child in the house
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1716 6 2
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We’re on our way out, my brother and me, to the graveyard.
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1716 2 2
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I think fat will just appear, like a narcotics cop at my door, or something.
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1716 0 0
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He awoke with a start. This was not the first time he did so. He couldn't afford these occasional bouts of sleep. And certainly not in the land of the Tsantsa hunters.
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1716 1 1
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Normally I would have never drank such a wine, but it was late on a Friday evening and the bottle was on the house...
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1716 29 13
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With such demeaning precarity, I can’t read/
anything more than a thousand words
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1716 3 2
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and i'm almost out of cigarettes,
and fireworks and sorority girls
scream
from down the street.
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1716 3 1
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Dark hung over the night like an occupation force. Across the street a Cuban diner fought it off with green and yellow neon lights, Latin rhythm beating through the air.
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1715 4 5
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In all the years we lived here we never had any issues from the power towers behind our house, other than them being slightly unsightly. I didn't even notice them when we would socialize out back, especially when drinking. When it rains you can sometimes
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1715 3 2
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I've heard of sucessful marriages where there's very little sex.
My heart aches for that kind of love.
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1715 2 2
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Christmas Eve arrives with a relief that the season of joy will soon be over so I can feel the pain I am denying myself. Rosie presses her face against the kitchen window, leaving ghostlike impressions of the tip of her nose and her lips on the glass tha
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1715 3 0
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His mouth went dry, but he managed to say, coolly, “Just how would you like me to do that, Sandra?”
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1715 9 7
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God's real name is Frank, and he stops by all the time. He tries to dump that cheap Xmas candy on us.
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1715 1 1
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Her ghost/kept coming back/to Hamlet
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1715 1 1
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My best friend died yesterday. His name was Franklin Seever, but we all called him Lin. It started when we were in Little League. There were two Franklins on the team so Coach, who was my dad, called the fat one Frank and my best friend Lin.
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1714 9 6
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Gather 'round children, For it's high time to tell, The story of a strange man With a horrible, awful smell. For this is a story More disgusting than most. This is the gruesome tale Of Gary Von Gross. With a house made…
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1714 11 7
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War came home tonight. We weep and hug, while he stares over our shoulders, like the statue we'll make of him. We pour a drink for his shaky hands, wheel him past his friends the dead, and lie to each other about other, far off places as if we knew.
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1714 10 3
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When she was nineteen, she began to brew a baby in her belly. She named it, and sang to it, and organized the leftover hand-me-downs that hadn't been worn ragged through by the first seven sets of recipients.
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