1428 0 0
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“Well in opposite heaven every time you make scrambled eggs the shells break into a million pieces, then you spend eternity picking them out of the yolk.”
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1428 11 6
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Everything is bound to change like / a damsel to the tracks.
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1428 3 1
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Sheep are very philosophical, I hear. Stop this hopeless dreaming.
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1427 10 11
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I fall in love with a second cousin at the picnic. I make sure I sit next to her.
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1427 8 6
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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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1427 5 4
|
I got no good hubcaps
My van is up on bricks
It's held together with duct tape
And a couple of crummy sticks
I caught the guy who did this
And tied him to a tree
I kicked him in the windpipe
And kicked him in the knee
I'm a man witho
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1427 2 1
|
Anatoly Gringovitch sat in the police car returning him to the Opera House.
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1427 9 4
|
These philosophic notions floated in my head for years and eventually helped inspire my pursuit of basic information in contemporary physics, astrophysics, astronomy, and cosmology when I was not reading or writing fiction or verse.
|
1427 5 5
|
Style Shifts “Oh, yes, my cousin. We were rude boys until the armed gangs started to gather. Used to be we could pass a night driving, playing our songs, acting tough. Yeah. We'd mouth off, flash some teeth, spark some anger when we felt like it. We…
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1427 7 6
|
Get comfortable with criticism
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1427 5 2
|
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1427 10 10
|
I dreamt I was raped the other night. Sometimes it was me, that is, and sometimes it was another woman with a dark bouffant hair-do. Definitely outside though and the hulking back of the man was covered by a charcoal wool…
|
1427 1 0
|
The parrots woke Eddie up. That and Rocker snoring in the twin bed. A thousand parrots flying over the motel? They squawked, God how they…
|
1427 10 5
|
Cultivate your vaginal tears
at the gates of Thigh and Holy.
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1427 6 6
|
With their brightly-colored bits of
found string
woven into the walls of their nests
to teach their baby birds
what the worms of the future
will look like.
Somewhat like the
cave paintings of Lascaux
for early man in France,
when hunti
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1427 4 2
|
If this road could answer
I would ask her what it is like
to follow the path
of the rippleshimmery river
for too many miles
through the slowly ghosting towns
and the corncovered landscapes
of the dying Midwest
|
1427 7 8
|
In and out of morphine dreams, he flies through the unfinished roof of Illinois sky. Below, matchbox-sized farm machines. A silo becomes his father's thermos, the silver-capped tower from which he stole sips at ten, his first secret. Back …
|
1427 2 1
|
Vietnam, Tet, and beaucoup Charlie
|
1427 11 6
|
fanned lashes on rouged cheek
a glamorous sea creature
in violet perfume
|
1427 18 9
|
I want to tell you how the odor of the flowers/felt her funeral day
|
1427 0 0
|
This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional and should not be inferred. (Really!)
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1427 11 6
|
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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1427 15 11
|
When Lois finally found him down there, Johnny was wedged between a large rock and the trunk of an old, long since fallen, cottonwood tree. She said as she got to him, she heard his gurgling breath, fighting fiercely to stay alive. When she saw the deep, gathering, red…
|
1427 9 8
|
I don't think you understand. A sad boy doesn't just die inside, slowly, he becomes withdrawn from certain types of lovely youthful reasoning out loud, accustomed to feeling what is expected, graded, just to be allowed to survive another…
|
1427 3 3
|
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1427 4 3
|
The first of the fires that started by the river in the abandoned mills were so hot they burned white and pale blue
|
1427 11 5
|
Blue skies greet us as we exit the forest . . .
|
1427 0 0
|
The purple sweater brought out the blue in her eyes. Fantastic eyes made of ice, she was a stunner, and she knew it. I met her at Slabtown
|
1426 6 1
|
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1426 15 11
|
sentinels in a frost-blackened field
|