1742 2 0
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I only knew that my heart was not in my life as I was presently living it. I needed the breasts of my Helen in my mouth forever, or I was going to die. Die! Ah, the life of a poet! I couldn’t go on living like this. Why should I go on living like this?
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1742 5 0
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Flash’s hackles stood brushlike but he kept his head bowed just enough beneath the bigger dog’s stare to delay the inevitable fight. Flash, Mal thought approvingly, would pick the time and place.
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1742 2 3
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① / empty space / not black / not white / not noise / blanck
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1742 3 3
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1742 0 0
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“I feel like my bones are melting.” Her arms are wrapped around her body tightly, like she’s trying to hold herself together. She’s shaking; I can hear it with every breath she takes.
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1742 10 9
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Now comfy is as comfy does, but when sleeping strange, please accept a wide range of cradle, crib, cave.
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1741 6 5
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You may think you've tasted envy, but yours was just a sour sip of wine at a civilized wine-tasting. Mine is bottom-shelf, well-brand gin in a biker bar with miss-the-urinal piss stains on the floor.
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1741 8 7
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Co-workers have started calling him Jesus, Manson, Foghat, Doobie Brother, hippie, hipster, Grizzly Adams, Dude Lebowski... there’s really no end to it.
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1741 7 4
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and the moon shines on like a silver dollar
and coyotes in the desert scream and holler
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1741 8 6
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With small and fleshy hands/
I scratch at enigmatic stones,
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1741 12 7
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Identification both ways was BooBoo, case sensitive.
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1741 2 1
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Justin comes out of the bathroom, finally erect, his hands glistening with K-Y jelly as he chucks the girlie mag into a corner. “I'm ready.” Through the afternoon's soft-filtered light, Kelly watches him climb on top of her and thinks of…
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1741 4 5
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On Soapography, two actresses are discussing
everyone’s personal heaven, and in another room
you can hear a woman who is your dead mother
combing her hair in a doctor’s smock in a dream,
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1741 12 12
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Your mother is a great and dying bird. Once, she tended her grand feathered nest. Once, she preened.
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1741 0 0
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There won't be dancing, anymore. That isn't true, that can't be true; but there is no floor to dance on, you know?
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1741 13 12
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1741 7 6
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I’m supposed to be writing poems but it’s Saturday morning and I’m watching cartoons.
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1741 7 3
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1740 2 3
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My husband waits for him to hurt himself.
The boy drinks red wine between movements,
Staring hypnotically at the back
Of a girl’s head.
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1740 8 4
|
The house had to be clean - I mean thorough-clean - when he got home from the pit for his tea, or he’d throw his plate at the wall and the gravy would run down onto the carpet. There was always gravy.
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1740 9 6
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Hey, how are you? she squeaked.
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1740 4 1
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Each drip off the corrugated plastic sheeting made a tinny sound that he could hear from deep within the damp sleeping bag and layers of blankets where he was trying to sleep.
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1740 4 2
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Take shelter from the rain inside the Museum of Sex.
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1740 12 11
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I walked to work back then...
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1740 6 5
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the names / she carried (within)
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1740 1 1
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so I tighten hands with my castaway and say/you failed to impress in your folded peacock dress
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1740 5 3
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Slept on a chair last night in the Springfield, Mass., bus terminal. It was March, and a dude in shorts asked: "Yo, you smoke trees?" I said, "Sure. Who doesn't?" He said, "You buyin'?" I said, "Nope, I'm going out of the country." He smiled and said, "Alright." He started…
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1740 4 3
|
“Buy Shoes On Wednesday and Tweet at 4:00” is a new advice book which tells the reader the best possible time to get everything done, from flossing ones teeth to visiting Zanzibar. As a public service, I've used the information provided in that book to create an…
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1740 3 3
|
You were sitting on dark leather meringue, wearing slit ivy, epilated thighs sliding through, roots showing beneath your anaemic skin, fighting with the pale bluegreen of your veins. Quills extended from your left hand, bent about 10.2 degrees or so.
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1740 14 9
|
I crave the confines of the convent
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