1469 6 5
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I found a diseased fish / wedged between some boulders near the pier
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1469 5 3
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He looked like a black paper doorway pasted onto a painting of summer.
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1468 6 4
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I'd wear my pajamas too, fitting for the big sleep
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1468 3 3
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For me, it was that kind of moment. I got to come back. I had been here before and now, well now, I could come back. I had a chance to do it all again, bigger, better and well, just better. I hoped I could remember all that I learned the first time.
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1468 5 5
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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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1468 4 1
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This poem first appeared in “Walt’s Corner” of The Long Islander, founded by Walt Whitman in 1838.
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1468 7 6
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Get comfortable with criticism
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1468 3 1
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"Look Emily, I’m charging your solar powered calculator and helping you relieve your dependence on foreign oil."
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1468 2 1
|
The blaring scream from my alarm clock suffices as my wake-up call. It disrupts me from my dream state that I so rarely get the privilege to experience any more. I've always loathed that alarm clock, so I turn it off in the most sensibly aggressive manner I know how: just…
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1468 0 0
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Oh, you aren't going to lecture us, for heaven's sake?
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1468 0 0
|
A life in NYC was one I always dreamed of but I found myself turning into a bitter, sarcastic person who was losing the ability to see the silver lining in just about anything.
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1468 3 3
|
“Sandy likes the way Bob spanks, when he’s done she gives him thanks."
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1468 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
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1468 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 …
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1468 2 1
|
Soon the world is on film that is burning.
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1468 6 2
|
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1468 5 1
|
There was no provision for keeping the post on the door, but I did not have the fingernails to pry it off.
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1468 3 2
|
I am useless. A freak. Different. They all hate me now. All except you, of course. You will never leave me. Never. I'd kill them all if I could. Every single one. But twenty-four, that's a lot even for me. I'm so sick of the cliques; the special groups and hastily strung…
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1468 3 1
|
We all know that sometimes miracles happen and sometimes they don't. Some days are good and some days go by slowly as the fatigue sets in and he realizes that he is fighting cancer.
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1468 14 7
|
At some point, you care/
just enough to wake each morning,
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1468 8 7
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By the sixth - Dizz, Falstaff buzzed - Croons - The Wabash Cannonball
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1468 11 7
|
You are a warm winter
Despite the presence of snow
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1468 3 1
|
I want to read a story that ends unhappily ever after: one where the bad guy wins and no one gets the girl.
|
1468 6 5
|
It sits up tall on its hind legs to take in all of whatever this is, big and bluer than the sky, death's own taxicab parked on its doorstep.
|
1467 0 1
|
[This story definitely WON'T be appearing in this month's "Alfred Hitchock's Mystery Magazine"!]
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1467 5 2
|
Once there was a man who wrote in code. He was comfortable among substitutions
|
1467 0 1
|
She could see him doing these things but she could not hear him.
|
1467 1 0
|
The doctors said, when she was born, that the gills would eventually fade away on their own. Nothing to fear, they said; no more unusual than the rare child born with a tail, or a dense pelt of fur, or a single sharp tooth jutting from its new pink gums.
|
1467 0 0
|
Slipping into the Sydney Harbour Tunnel like a nocturnal creature fleeing the light, tears stream down my cheeks, spilling from my lips, the pain too great to care about self-preservation. Drunk still, hands clenched, I strain to focus on the world fading into a blur of…
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1467 4 4
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