1797 6 6
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My father was dating already. Her name was Shelly. She had a man-like body, buck teeth and red hair, a big forehead. I don't know what bog she climbed out of. She wanted to fill in for my mother, but I locked her out of my room. I just wanted to be sad and hold…
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1797 17 10
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The list of things to live for/
shortens with age. The list of regrets/
lengthens.
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1797 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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1797 12 7
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Val walks through the world, absorbed in the day to day. A plainspoken narrator drones on in his mind. The nondescript voice marks time to the beat of Val's banal footfall, hums along with the whir of Val's modest, midsize sedan. The narration is loudest in the twilight…
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1797 15 8
|
Mostly, though, reiteration of the old/
in an idiosyncrasy that strives/
to become fresh and fails
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1797 2 1
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Sarge had done this before. Not with this many rookies and not on a one-way trip. This was a suicide mission. The boys didn't know it, but he did. They weren't coming back. Hell, they couldn't come back
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1797 2 1
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I didn’t always have this metal thing poking out of the top of my head. I used to be a self-respecting farm animal amongst a barnyard of toys, but then the kids grew up.
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1797 3 1
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behind the curtainof a ballsy fragilitythere lives an easethat was not easythere exists a gracethat is not always gracefulbeauty can maskcheekbones that sometimes look sadwhen they are smilingeven grin determinationneeds downtimethe prize is still thereeven if the eyes…
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1797 3 1
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My small kitchen has barely enough room to turn around in, yet I had the feeling I was being watched. When I experience it again, just seconds later, I realize it was eyes watching, actual eyes, not a camera or machine.
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1797 4 2
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A father's soft neglect has repercussions.
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1797 15 12
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You should have
marked that territory like a conquistador,
mounted him like an equestrian, left no
what-ifs in your wake.
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1797 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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1797 2 0
|
It all started with a middle finger. This is where the chain of events began in Benjamin's mind as his mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood and the crunch of broken glass rolled against his teeth. The pickup followed much too closely, but Benjamin was too…
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1797 4 2
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So begins your new career in the car service business. In some ways you enjoy it, too. Sitting alone in the cab each day, totally your own boss; you get a surge of excitement inside thinking about the money you'll make in a way that requires so little work. Clearing two…
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1796 3 2
|
He lit another reed - a new score orchestrating in his head - his thoughts swirling around the older man; there was something else going on here…
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1796 1 0
|
*A"Cento" which is a "patchwork poem" using the words of other writers. for V.W. …
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1796 10 8
|
Satchmo sings a love song over the sound system. People read books, tap keyboards, drink coffee, eat cake. In Barnes & Noble—more a coffee shop these days than a bookstore—I am thinking about my dad and his stomach cancer.The terror he…
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1796 3 3
|
Nearly everyone knows of that celebrated poet’s story coming down to us from classical Greek mythology: the tragic tale of Orpheus and his descent into the underworld to rescue his beloved Eurydice. Well, there’s a much lesser known story of a legendary 7
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1796 9 3
|
Where I work people use words like leverage. They do not appear to denote anything.
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1796 1 0
|
Priests didn’t just disappear, not without a reason, so there hadn’t been any doubt when Merrick was suddenly replaced. No one had said it, but they didn’t have to. And her boys, thank God—at least he’d done nothing to them.
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1796 0 0
|
Every time Hector left his home he wondered if it was for the last time. It was Monday at 2:45, so he was standing in the bedroom near the tall mirror, staring into his dark eyes. In the past, she would lovingly help him dress with her tiny, perfect fingers. She…
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1796 0 0
|
Tough boys with loose pants come out at this hour; their long chains swing from low pockets, their virile scent bites like steel in the cold night.
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1796 8 8
|
Today the color of the skyremakes my heart into somethingless willing to break, or to judge,and I am thankful for it. Acolor not unlike walking chestdeep in the ocean and seekingbeautiful clouds and thinking Iwill be back. Dreaming with the sky.Please stop lying to me. A…
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1795 4 1
|
She heard mortar fire, whose percussive power rose above the tapping typewriter keys. A perspiration of terror broke on Loretta’s brow, under her arms. Then suddenly, the whistling of shells.
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1795 6 5
|
“Can I feel it?” he reached his hands out immediately, expecting I’d say yes. I am the type to always say yes, right?
“Sure.” I confirmed, swallowing back my fear of his touch. He didn’t seem himself, like this. I led his hands to my hips and let them
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1795 2 2
|
John was sitting at his computer one night after work, when he read an article linked to him by a friend.
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1795 3 2
|
He was drinking heavily again and complaining that there was nothing fresh worth writing about.
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1795 0 0
|
Dr. van Roos reminded the group that trauma is trauma...
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1795 21 11
|
I am not the wind./
I am a stone eroded by the wind
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1795 2 1
|
A sturdy and goatish original by know-nothing punks from the sticks. Who cares if we were puny and smelled like fresh milk? For a few years we played and rocked, even turned the Appalachian soundscape a little brown at the edges. At least at first. Mainly
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