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Detienen a 271 conductores en un Stop.

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Un consejo esconde un futuro desastre. Es como si Mar le dijese a Desierto "amigo...impresionante. Dejate elevar por la atracción de Luna y verás". Y Desierto le replicase "está bien, y tú Mar, deja que Viento lleve tus olas hasta el nacimiento de los ríos, es brutal". …

Jimothy

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Alien meets nicotine

en/core

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(vogued.)

20 & 21

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I want to tell you things you do not know.

The Hour of the Wolf

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Beneath an opal moon, the open field and wilderness across it look immersed in varying shades of blue. A strong night howler blows across a little girl's face as she walks the field as if in a trance; her whole visage framed against the backdrop of this very act …

Shadow Play

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I was quite alone in this small room with the tarp and the dying fire.

Ah, The Drink

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My mother was Irish as Paddy's pig. So all her family. Lovely people they were. Also, seldom seen among the Folk; stone cold sober. My father's family; Bavarian German. Bavaria's the wrong side of the German tracks. Frankfort people laugh at Bavarians as people in…

Navigation and Perseverance

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“Gladys Miller!” the dog shouted. “Live a little. TiVo it.”

My Own Skin

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Chubby. Plump. Pudgy. Portly. Bulky. Buxom. Rotund. Ample. Hefty. Corpulent. Zaftig.

Tour Guide

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“It is not your shoes the Americans complained about!” Roberto yelled, sitting behind his desk, cigar smoke curling around his purple face. “It is your UNDERWEAR!”

Assiduity Two

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I'm old enough to be her father.

Send

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Send me a secret story in a song just for me

If I Could Locate the Tether that Keeps Me Here I Would Chew Off the Limb That It's Tied To

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She is face down in the snow

Fa La La La La

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A pinprick breaks the black/ and pins the spin of constellations/ around its still point.

Playtime

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Her head was free from restraint...

Advice For Aspiring Writers

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Published writers will tell you that the most important thing you can do as a beginning writer is to know your markets! So this month, we'll talk about two of the markets open to you and your riveting but as yet unpublished prose -- Fling Magazine and Clubhouse…

ID

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He does not read what he’s giving them permission to do to him, just signs the release.

Why I Cannot be your Facebook Friend

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The TV projects from an insect arm. It has the face of my ex-husband, smiling and void. I like to set small fires and inhale them.

Hard Times

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None of this is real, he says, and the path slopes down to a house that is possibly haunted. One always looks in such windows, one cannot not look at the predictable detritus of another's failure, a queer satisfaction, a fairy's dust. But no, not real, none of it. And…

The Paintings at Lascaux

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Essences of bull and bison,// stag and horse, illuminate/ the stony underground.

Passion vs. Security

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They blew in the doorway of the café at the French Hotel like two sparrows chasing each other. Their wings down in the dust, unheeding any danger in their hunger for each other. I knew the man who was about to become her husband, so maybe this was her las

Tumbleweed Suite

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in late fall, Rome, sans wind, sans rancor, sans sand or rain, sans hate ...

Catching Forks

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Last night Jim taught me how to catch forks. Meaning, he taught me how to throw them. But he called it catching forks. It was late, and we were low down 3rd street, south of the Bay Bridge, the baseball stadium, all the people and cars, on top of a warehouse. There were a…

White girl/boy angst

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I’m secretly hoping for a huge bouquet, a fruit basket, a pickle jar of urine in a lunch bag on my doorstep, even.

Tractors

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Beneath their feet bedrock stretched a hundred miles

We're Still Here

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the beeps, rhythmic, tell us that you're still with us

Honey

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Third time that day, he was on me. On me like bees to a flower (or flies on shit, he'd correct me, no doubt). Sucking sweet nectar and breathing that breath — damn that breath — 'round my head, in my ear, pestering, bugging, like a bee he annoyed me. B

Sax Named Pegasus

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I was just sitting in the corner, stirring my stories with a straw that sucked characters out of bars.

When technology fails

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But Jeffrey was flabbergasted and couldn’t explain to the officer why he was speeding. All he could manage to get out as an attack of Tourette syndrome hit were nasty, flamboyant obscenities. The Alabama state trooper wasn’t amused.

Exile

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In the summer that my mother returned from wherever she had gone after her divorce, she and I moved to a large, old farmhouse high on a hill, far from the town where I had grown up. The farmhouse was over a hundred years old and no one had lived in it for…