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I AM A FIRE SWAN!
THIS IS MY QUILT!
YOU ARE MY QUEEN!
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When they tell you to choose your last meal, it probably hasn't dawned on you yet.
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I said hey man, how you doin’? He looked up and nodded but his shades flashed and I couldn’t see his eyes.
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She's sure the chicken is having an identity crisis; it's staring into the full-length mirror, watching itself, a never-ending exchange of eyeball glances between chicken flesh and silver-blasted…
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I remember sitting there on the first unfinished rooftop, watching you building houses out of words. You hammered in grammar and punctuation; you said these things needed to be hammered in by hand. You drove the long straight exclamation …
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Love needs loathing like cold weather needs warm clothing. And all truths, untruths and part truths need a place to live when a mind gets too sardine-packed with information and cynicism...
Some say there was a time when the light was brighter, the ear
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I was watching the bustling crowd below, sipping on a teacup full of Victory Gin when the scream, no a howl, cut through the murmuring of footsteps and telescreens.
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We will collapse in a storm of images
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The voice on the other end mumbles, not forming words, but I understand: I am to be the starting third baseman for the Detroit Tigers.
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The Traignarry Light Preservation Society meets monthly, and welcomes visitors.
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The park is filled with tents, tarps, and supporting structures, along with hundreds of diverse individuals seeking a common focus, wanting to make a difference, expressing an abundance of opinion, verbally and with signs.
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The water lapped against the sides of the small boat, their rhythm all that I could think of. Sweltering rays beat down, frying my flesh, the insipid salty breeze that occasionally stirred my only relief from it. Gulls circled overhead, like white ravens,
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gravel coughing up tires at 90 miles an hour
and just getting under way
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Why not just self-publish on Fictionaut and be read by thousands of my peers? Why not release my cherished work directly to my thousands of Facebook or Twitter or blog friends? Can the budding writer that I am realistically expect a larger audience?
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That Loving Feeling
How do I love thee?
I love the bulge
of your breast
along the inside
of my upper arm
when you lie on top
kissing me
I love
feeling the movement
of your nipple
along the tender skin
there
It
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Sounds terrific, but are there any strings attached?
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The following is a true story, or rather it is a true experience from the story of my life. Some say that just because something happens doesn't really make it "true".
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How the hell do these 1/8 inch long red-eyed flying insects wind up in my kitchen anyway?
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Lu loved his mother, but her anxieties nagged at him like poison ivy. You can't avoid scratching it, but the more you do, the worse it gets.
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My brother Herb married his high school sweetheart right after completing college. This was a girl named Beryl, whom he'd met originally in Mr. Reinert's marching band at York High School in Elmhurst. I remember one day in particular in the middle of the
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One could count fifty moons hanging in the sky, in rows and columns of smaller skies.
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If you were a poem / it’d be called/
Better Homes and Gardens.
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—You must be joking, he laughed.
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O’Toole signaled again with two fingers. The night was young. Suddenly I had to go home to my lovely Penny. All I knew was I didn’t want to end up drinking at a hole like this with my head down on the bar.
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when i was five or six/ we lived in an apartment/ and every sunday/ i'd lie on the carpet/ to watch squares of sunshine/ crawl across the rug/ while my mother inflicted upon us/ a centuries-long hour of television/ worse than any droning mass.
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I still picture her waving her bare arms and hands into the purple bellied clouds above the trees, her crooked smile, the spiraling silver maple seeds cascading soft circles around her determined reach, as though the very tree limbs shaping the sky above
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—Jesus, a snoring cat. No wonder Alex put this cat outside.
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So, I say, what is the answer?
The answer to what?
You know. The song by Bob Dylan. The answer is blowing in the wind. You’re the wind. So what’s the answer?
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