1693 2 2
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“You own your own burial plot, but you don't own your home,” he'd said, and I couldn't help but agree.
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1693 0 0
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1693 19 12
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I was to limp with stunned, growing horror, as I navigated through the swirling smoke and maze of human corpses...
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1693 17 13
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This year we have no need of spring!
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1692 2 1
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The logic of the impoverished was amazing. Like Rita telling me I owed her fifty cents for a token after she stole five million yen from me.
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1692 2 2
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“What the hell, bitch?”
The words rolled out of my aching jaw. I twisted my legs around, kicking Lila out of the bed. She screamed, crashing to the floor. All I heard was barking. I threw a pillow at her.
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1692 4 2
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Sparky took to me immediately. In some atavistic canine way he knew I was simpatico to a dog like him.
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1692 1 0
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They hovered and darted but, after a while, they seemed to be always around him. Lapping at him like the mellow waves that stroked the muddy bank.
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1692 8 0
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I remember the man well, though he didn't notice me.Even though a million tiny things happened to cause his hand to brush me away from his neck, he didn't notice. Much like the way his eyes bounced off women's bodies as he hurried down the sidewalk in his blue wool…
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1692 0 0
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Home is where my parents live and my relatives visit.
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1692 7 4
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Somebody needs to call Frank. The pediatrician who fixes cars on the side.
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1691 2 0
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the smell of the small cedar chips burning in the fireplace
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1691 6 4
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Here are some ideas for stories I have had. 1. A captain of a whaling ship loses his leg to a whale, and makes it is life's mission to find this beast and kill it, and make a pair of boots, belt, and wallet out of its skin. 2. Ten people are invited to stay the weekend at a…
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1691 5 2
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Maintaining a healthy love life requires effort and professional advice, and Your Love Life columnist would be happy to assist you.
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1691 1 1
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“It felt like the space under my skin had been filled with desert sand. I did not open my eyes for my body was covered with the dust. A camel could have walked over me and not noticed. I needed to wipe my eyes before I could open them and my body was froz
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1691 15 6
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As the other mammals go extinct,/
we can’t presume we are immune//
because of big brains and a history/
of belief in the control of nature.
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1691 2 2
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There’s a crack in the cosmos,
and pink is leaking through.
There’s a crack in the cosmos,
fix the sink, the toilet leak.
There are many cracks in the cosmos,
numerous. This is how time escapes.
Good grief, they’re going to suck the cream
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1690 1 1
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A procession of our somber youth—
stoned and stunned and
broken beyond repair—viewed
the boy carved of putty.
The mortician painted him
stuffed him, presented him
to us, the semi-living.
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1690 5 5
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F.B.I. then or: "I said later 'for a boob job' and imagined her, a public lawyer, wandering Arizona on foot unable to hide a Playboy-Mansion style rack."
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1690 12 11
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and watch the bird play and squirrel play/
and the twitching of cottontail noses
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1690 2 0
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I first met you in a February, but my best early memory is of your deep and sweaty tan. You'd been to Florida, I ran into you in the market, the sight of your tan made me hard for your pale parts. It was summer, you were dressed all in white, I invited you…
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1690 15 11
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1690 17 11
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When he got out of sick bay, they moved him into a room with three other alkies. A kid, a tree trimmer, and a Catholic priest.
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1690 14 7
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We flew./
In my dreams, I can fly.
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1690 6 3
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Let’s say you know so little about me. Like whose idea of a joke to name me Hideo for excellent male. Or why I hang out at triangle Park, ogling expatriates or crusty punks.
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1690 9 7
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It's about dinner time. My neighborhood is in Sa-bur-bia. Driving my gold 2007 Malibu i pass Chick. She notices me and stares standing in front of her house. We were friends about ten years ago. Chick is still divorced. Tall skinny legs. Educated blu-ish eyes. Wet…
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1690 4 1
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I am reintroducing myself.
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1690 5 4
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Time has wings. They are bright and beautiful, like those of a butterfly. They are delicate wings, and they carry the years away from my decaying mind. I would break those wings if I could, for tomorrow I turn seventy-three, and I grow weary of their ince
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1690 5 3
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The porous bear the anchorite’s vial
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1690 7 3
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In every writer's room there is a bogeyman born in the closet, growing with every blot on the virgin sheet, feeding on the pain of writing, of solitude, the failure, the rage, the confusion, the helplessness, the fear, the humiliation. The narrower the…
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