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It’s that laugh of hers that gets me...
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Mark Reep is a faded Polaroid oracle taped to the only unbroken window of an abandoned house in Ithaca NY.
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children love to push the gas up and down my limbs
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They were just boys, the Nazis I mean, young in their twenties, not much older than my brother Cyril.
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addict for validation and cat tongues
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Suppose Eve, strolling through the sunlit Garden, had not stumbled on that particular Tree at all, the wily serpent twined in its lower branches?
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1574 2 1
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They could cram Rob inside the trunk and then drop him somewhere in the dingles.
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From room to room, neither closet nor drawer contained any remnant of pleasant memory.
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1573 3 0
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I see ghosts. They accost me in their sleep. Hundreds of them. When I wake up (after a long night of half-waking), I think, What wold ghosts want with me? I have nothing for them. But at night they're there again, watching, tapping my shoulder as I lay awake. Sometime…
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I turned a maiden to a witch / and back again
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Marie was on the roof. The deck, with its cool concrete pavers and faded cedar Adirondack chairs, was one of the reasons she and Harold had bought their condo in this building. The only ugly part of the roof was the chain-link fence along its edge; soon after they moved…
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1573 6 3
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Chant the ice cream mantra.
Prance the do dah day ballet.
Trot the t-bone tango two-step.
Dance the livelong day away.
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Christmas night was closing in at the Cantrips alehouse in Aberdeen, a firm favourite for riggers and other men and women who lived life close to the horizon. Sometimes, on a Saturday night, things might get a bit rowdy but Mother O'Grady would stand firm and bring out…
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Emi stood up and turned to Mayumi. She did not know what else to say. There was a sense of helplessness.
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. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.
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anxiety
said Kierkegaard
is the dizziness
of freedom
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I assume the shape of a pronoun.
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1573 5 3
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My Aunt's husband liked to dress up like a clown
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1573 4 0
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We’re more into the punishment that works its way in through the skin and coats the heart anonymously.
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I guess at the end you’re only
looking forward. Or upward actually,
since you can only lie there on your back
looking upward, straight ahead toward infinity,
your mouth in a grimace, with the ghostly
pink lips peeled back from the teeth.
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Buyers of freelance writing have a well-deserved reputation for responding slowly, thereby increasing your pleasure in much the same way that the Pointer Sisters longed for a slow hand.
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What a nation!
First we lost our money
Now we’ve lost our funny
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We now live in post-Postmodern Absurdist fear of course, says our smiling Prof. That’s the price we pay he tells us. . . .
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The fly comes in against my will/
and hers. She would prefer/
the wider world with its piles of shit
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Francesco needed a magnifying glass to read her little missives.
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1572 4 1
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Pinnacles
State Park
lying on our backs
stoned on hash
around a campfire
looking up at the
clear see-through
blue green stars
to the other side
of the universe
I know now
you are out there
I float up to
within 2
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1572 6 1
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Mr. Wazzeldot has seven legs. He lives very comfortably. He likes to sit by the fire. There's a large cushion for a chair, and in the evenings, he sips his Bloody Marys. I know because I visit him…
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1572 2 0
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A university student who triggers a flash mob in the heart of Silicon Valley to prove her hacking creds finds herself in deep trouble when the colorful members of Anonymous Hackers prove their hacking creds to her.
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1572 2 1
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They were really big, a lot larger and taller and stronger than he was. Sometimes they were holding him, all of him, high up in the air. Sometimes they would have him crawl in front of them. Often they put him into some form of holding cell.
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