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One minute Rudy was sitting up close to me, asking me how could Geppetto make a little boy out of a piece of wood, and the next, Steve was pounding up the stairs, yelling, "Carla, get blankets, warm clothes; we're leaving, we won't be back."
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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
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It was Fredrick Miller, not his murdered son Matthew, who was executed Monday night at Henshaw Prison. (the system won't take anything under 200 characters, so this part is just to take up space. please ignore)
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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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My uncle lived part-time in prison, in a cell with a blanket, pillow, and towel. The remainder of his days he lived in a small house on Prospect Street.
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I wrote her a poem.She said, “I hate poetry.” I said, “OK, just read the words then."
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I always thought I would feel your hand, always, Lay with you as we flew higher together, laugh with You in the little spaces left between certain trees, like tiny blue flowers that only appear suddenly, made secretly Of…
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The light on his face from a lamp,
felt hat with a black band scrunched down,
the light on his face as though thrown there,
the nose creating a strong shadow,
with dark, straight eyebrows under the hat,
red and orange beard.
Leaning forwar
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Despite what the bible says, Shadrach and Meshach had no third brother named Abednego. To pay for his cello lessons, Yo-Yo Ma worked the subways of New York as a busker. Just chill. After Sal went into witness protection, he yearned for a job at the art…
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He was losing his fight with
malaria, but you would never
know it from his dreams
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It was a wake-up call. A sign that I needed to stop and ask if I was making wise and sensible life choices.
My iPod was full.
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a human hand/
looks sadly/
naked now
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She sometimes ate her dinner standing up, in front of her living room window.
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Sunday afternoon was the best. The kids drew straws for a chance to sit on the stool in the Kitchen with the broken armrest. I think mom thought it was an antique but it was just a piece of shit her dad picked up second hand.
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The old man behind the counter recognizes fear and anxiety in the boy's face, and sees the brown paper bag clenched in his other white-knuckled hand.
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I could feel the old house skulking in the shadows. In the basement I used to play in the dark, shine a flashlight on the angular black widows creeping in the corners, feed them ants and silverfish and flies with the wings pulled off so the web wouldn’
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just another torn & burning journeyflag for the rebel heart. All we know forsure is that dancing among the toads andcrickets takes a bit of courage. Beauty takesreal living guts these days. Laughing takes guts,too. Living takes love. Love is feeling. What'dyou think I…
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Baby Teak can access Wikipedia by rubbing two xylophone mallets together.
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Sunday, Nolan and I drop by the ice rink on 10th and Alma to watch the amateur hockey leagues battle it out in an unspoken yet assumed class war: the buff, unemployed rink bums who can grind ice, cross-check, and stick handle like the pros, versus the dou
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She said “I have to go”, he answered with his eyes “Don't” and they stepped closer to each other in the kitchen, a step on the tiled floor, the remnants of their tea cold on the counter top.
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powerless against the memory of the earth-bank and the river flows, through a susurrus field of a million quills
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Francesco needed a magnifying glass to read her little missives.
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Suds, like gossamer bandages at her wrists, concealed the turbulence below but could not relieve it.
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It was that pink lipstick found
on the end of that brown filter
yeah, think it was an Old Gold
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I watch the seagulls making their quacking noises
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He nodded six times, and waged his stubby fingers repeatedly, forgetting she was simply two wags of the forefinger and a thin waif of girl came running over.
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Polylinguists lash me
with tongues I cannot conjugate
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it's the constant reminders of something that was never a constant remind her but i suppose there is no ticking clock on that which is wondrous and it was right right it's hard to come up with cleverly phrased universal truths and it's hard to make…
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