1490 0 1
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Galloping people, tangled in ballets of hot love, weaving in and out, making a canvas of it.
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No excerpts for you. Next!
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When I slip through the seams I return to the same place.
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One day, my feet and hands got into an argument. My feet argued that they were superior because they were not only the foundation of my body, but the cause of its mobility. They were modest in size, yet supported and transported an entire body that towered over them.…
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Ten-year-old Bobby Akins learned that a shotgun shell struck on its brass end with a hammer can indeed take out the left eye of an eight-year-old brother observing the proceedings close by.
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My sixth grade teacher used to tell us all the time about how being poor is nowhere near the same as living in poverty.
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The courts had scheduled the date long ago but the time, an hour always left to the warden, had yet to be decided.
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and, once in a rare while,/
actual pearls.
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So for now, let the snow fall, but
let it fall gently,
each flake as a soft piano note
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For decades the land the village sat on had switched its allegiance between two countries.
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Flicking the cigarette into the river the man's face becomes soft, as if waving goodbye to the only real attachment that he has felt in decades.
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Ayane took another look of the area and it was large warehouse. A loud thud vibrated outside.
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just before my break,/ he came on the line,/ old and slow with computers now/ but wanting a discount/ he'd been told he qualified for.
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Reading at Menlo Park Senior Center,
old people falling asleep leaning to the left in their chairs,
all in the same direction.
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My student assistant was a comely young woman. A freckle faced blonde. She was from Ohio.
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A man of action would take to his rake/
but Sloth would rather watch and wait/
for snow to erase each leaf on leaf.
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It was your present world that seemed more than mad to me. Your polished stiff brown shoes that always squeaked like mice, while the latest rude Bombers bubbled up in their comfortable Dart-board garages like apple pies…
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I’m not ready for football. I’m not ready for it, but I live in a southern town that worships at its altar more devoutly than those suicidal beauties in James Wright’s great poem.
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It's as if the house knew I was relinquishing my hold on it.
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So where does that leave me, Roscoe Loomis wondered, dismounting his silver, aluminum steed in his sweat-soaked, spandex outfit, and, clearing the saliva from his beard he walked over, checked and smiled, learning that the bike track's timing unit showed it was Roscoe's…
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1489 5 2
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If there was another way to describe emptiness, I'd word the endlessness of the sky, of the ocean at low tide.
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Mayumi noticed everything moving in real time. Everyone just stared and a woman approached her to see if she was okay. Once Mayumi felt the woman’s hand touch her shoulder, her skin crawled and she ran.
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what was she like you ask? smarter than me for instance she could type alot faster. and she didn’t worry constantly about being poor or having a family looking over her shoulder. maybe that’s what she did with boys. 17 years later and she is in my bed
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To listen is to feel embodied reason//
sing and dance with consummate grace
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Ok American dogs. Here my first story I wrote when I only two days old! Then evil moderator delete me and story go away. Now I three days old. I try to remember.
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The trouble with alarm clocks is naturally that they are miserable. And their curse is that their misery is useful: we employ them because we want to get away from them. But we would never have one as a friend.
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At last, we learn if Blow has the cojones to fight.
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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
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So many dreams I need to visit, though
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