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You've been given some really cruel thoughts that are not your own.You've been given some really stupid sets of rules which are impossibleto follow. You can learn to manage for yourself. Remember who youwere before they told you who you were. You've been trainedsince birth…
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What grabbed the mind when you heard about it was the way he did it.
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A short triangular plastic shovels into the/White plastic container filled with topaz crystal-like/Salt granulars. Scratchy sandy sounds echo.
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We may not be capable of even trying to appreciate the fact of mortality until we are somewhat older—let's say 18 years old. But, from the age of 18 until we die—and die we will; we know that—we have the opportunity to spend some time thinking abou
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as distant lights
all must shiver
before joining in
a Milky Way river
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Except for the bathroom stalls—you know the one that goes “Here I sit all broken-hearted”—the only poetry in the house is composed by Hazel, recited to her fawning sycophants.
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Naked, we stood in my shower. When she kicked my tool, I noticed she had a toe ring.
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Little mercy, ten fingers, ten toes.
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Barbie wore only her clear pink heels...
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A pinprick breaks the black/
and pins the spin of constellations/
around its still point.
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She stood there with her back to me and her dress around her ankles.
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Where horses once were tethered grows their grass . . .
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We slept beside dripping glaciers
people like us
We were never meant to be housed
contained, kept, petted, cleaned
We could only be gutted
You used us one time
and threw us out
people like us
We sprouted the wings of desire
by watchi
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My little friend is no bigger than a minute. An even five feet tall, if that.
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THE man in the tent with the stick points to the chart on the wall and says to us all: the stats point to the end of the war by the end of the fall. A just war, not just oil. Just then Allah's shadow comes over the scene. He's here to stiffen his troops with some …
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The songs that she used to sing to him still dance in his head while he wrangles equations. The stars in the cosmos spell out her name.
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I must have been six years old at that time, but the events of…
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Lucky for mama, he doesn't like for his women to work.
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Say the world is a smudged charcoal drawing. Slit from its frame, smuggled out of the Vatican. Don't say it couldn't happen. Who would know.
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No jagged bits of crust were thrust up/
through the prairie’s black gumbo/
to give us cataclysmic mountain views.
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Jaume jumped up from the bar, a wide smile across his face. He hugged his old friend and planted a kiss on his wife's cheeks. He was buzzing from the chance encounter, marveling how life had brought them together after all these years. There had to be a r
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A shot in the dark and everything goes black. It's as if the story never happened.
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The first thing I saw was a sandal, but it didn't exactly look priestly. It was golden and glowing, and the foot it was strapped to had red painted nails. The straps wrapped around her ankles, and up her slender leg, tied off in a bow below the knee.
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Her smile dazzled me from across the room.
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It wasn't so much the softness of the bed that kept her from sleep, or the pungent bleach-scent of the unfamiliar sheets, but the lack of her clock's familiar tick, tick, tick. Or was it a missing heartbeat? Awake, she watched his chest. On the table, an empty pill …
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His mother was a ballerina.
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