1470 0 0
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Mezereon’s giant dragon heart marveled at the girl’s revelations. First, he was heartsick for her and the sad state of things back where she had come to him from. Secondly, he was aghast to learn she was a princess; for even dragons know and respect r
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1470 2 2
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The light of day is screaming,
shook by the calls of howler monkeys,
their low roar hanging in the salt,
in the black sand riding the wind,
as Playa Negra outstretches its infinite arms.
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1470 0 0
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When He had built the Universe, there was no greater joy in putting it together. The angels themselves were perfect constructs of concept and design, embodiment of breathing principle over particle waves. They each had their purpose; each mortar or a supp
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1470 13 8
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Spying is a different concern. Privacy also. I feel there is a loss of privacy just in believing or realizing it is possible; our forebears did not experience loss of privacy digitally, perhaps in another way.
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1470 10 3
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I am going to quit clicking refresh, only because it is clear nothing is happening out there. After I click refresh just one more time, that is, and then I am closing the window. After clicking one more last time. …
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1470 4 0
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Then it started extruding tendrils and tying them all into intricate knots.
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1470 2 0
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I can't believe it's Frankie, but there he is at a table on the far side, just in front of the big picture window. I hold the menu close to my face and peek again over the top, watching as he reaches under the white linen tablecloth to plant…
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1470 6 3
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It is midnight in Utah, but I can’t tell. It always looks like midnight in a cave.
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1470 6 4
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your words that came crashing over me/
so cold the clear shock was like salt water
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1470 1 1
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She clutched her fat rolls and tugged on a pant leg. "I'm so embarrassed! You caught me on a bad day!"
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1470 13 4
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So I've got this head in a jar and I'm not sure who it belongs to.
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1470 5 4
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Mon wakes up surrounded by trees. The light is grey, the trunks black.How long have I slept? he wonders.He doesn't know which way to walk. In every direction, the same prospect of trees. He looks up at a blank sky. No sign even of the sun.***He starts walking. Slowly,…
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1470 10 9
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...clash of gulls
wend upwards, disappearing into grey
night's high tide recedes
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1470 4 3
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No pain is private. How can it be?
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1470 2 0
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Each had jostled and laboured for his or her place upon the blunt outcrop, in the cold persistent darkness, where the outcrop was merely something that had fallen and not quite been washed away.
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1470 2 2
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Remembering you is easy
We do it every day,
When little Mike and Joey
Ask when the hell is Daddy ever coming home to play?
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1469 4 3
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They found your athymic neck/clipped like a bag of Skittles/and your lifeblood left a Rorschach test on the dash/in which they saw the future/and their own exits/(straight ahead and to the right).
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1469 5 0
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You are Day I am Night Let us Meet In the Afternoon And…
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1469 2 2
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Suddenly I'm not feeling it anymore. /
Poetry has become insufficient. /
I can't do it like I used to.
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1469 5 7
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It is claimed we choose/
conditions of our servitude.
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1469 5 5
|
“If your work is good you will get published. Just keep at it."
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1469 4 2
|
If white t-shirts are only an SPF of 8, she couldn’t even imagine what a white nylon-mesh umbrella on this godforsaken beach might be in terms of protection.
|
1469 0 0
|
I'm getting self-righteous here, Dear Reader . . . [hey! wait a second! this is my diary! what are you doing, looking at it, dude! Hit the road! Scram! Vamoose!]
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1469 8 6
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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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1469 11 6
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I suppose it was inevitable, This crashing of souls, This recognition of possibility to create. If we were younger, We would make a baby, The ultimate act of faith. Now it has to be something else, Nothing to force a track with night feedings, …
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1468 8 6
|
Our painter man was killed by a bunch of snotty kids who were making fun of him. A gun went off. What is a noodle to do? He wasn't sitting alone in his world, anymore. Where was his famous straw hat? His trusty pipe? He desperately needed to smoke…
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1468 2 1
|
Sit down at night and stare into the fire. Consider if Cupid is just another liar.
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1468 3 2
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Michiko stood in front of Steinway Hall on West 57th Street.
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1468 4 1
|
This poem first appeared in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, founded by Walt Whitman in 1838.
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1468 2 2
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I do not know the species of birds here. /
The two I see playing on the balcony at night /
I can never call back.
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