106741
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In the morning I listen through an ear-trumpet
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106621
|
An excellent plan. Just like old times.
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106632
|
I used to be a poet, you know. /
Better, in many respects, than you.
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106610
|
A tanka poem inspired by the 40 million debit card numbers stolen from Target stores since Black Friday last month.
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1066119
|
All else is unmoved/
and relentless in its indifference.
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106611
|
I first saw her about a year after I moved back, when I went to Dairy Queen. I know. Dairy Queen!? Ever since I was a kid, I have had a love for the dipped cones. When I used to visit my father on weekends, we would always stop at Dairy Queen on the way back to…
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106600
|
John Davies paces nervously around an empty parking lot...
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106643
|
I killed him. I know you probably don't believe me, but it was an accident. I'll bet everyone in this room knows Dennis Gauda.... or should I say knew him? He was District Governor a while back. He also won quite a few speech contests. Yes... he's competition,…
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106600
|
A large shadow cast overhead as the sound of sirens blared in the distance. People looked up at the white clouds consumed by the pitch black cloud.
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106622
|
Inspired by the photographic work of Susan Lipper. Grapevine series, 1988-92.
http://susanlipper.com/gv_23.html
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106683
|
"I would like my pictures to look as if a human being had passed between them, like a snail, leaving a trail of the human presence, memory trace of past events, as the snail leaves its slime." Francis bacon “Feminine …
|
106620
|
Charley calls to say he hasn't heard from me. The blinds are gone, so I take a lipstick off the living room table and draw a circle around his head. I make a half-circle for his gut, a squiggle for the telephone cord. He can come over, he says, just to …
|
106621
|
In one hand she cradles a cigarette, in the other a glass of red wine. Typically neither of these things would be allowed in here, and on this occasion it was thought that it would be better to let her do what she wanted.
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106600
|
"Being honest with me," said her teacher, "will hopefully allow you to be honest with yourself--writing is about being honest, and articulating that honesty."
It sounded like a riddle, and her teacher looked at her with the sanctimony of a wizard.
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106681
|
Sorry, I think I was jotting and not writing. I see a dropped article that would clarify my interest. I purposely didn't describe my alcohol use. There, I just did.
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106644
|
I’m up to my kneecaps
in mockery and swill, and …
Excuse Me,
I’m Writing a Poem here?
Thank you. Sheesh!
As I was saying,
I’m up to my kneecaps in mockery and swill.
And I meet someone who
names all his fish after
people he doesn’t l
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106621
|
I was born at the age of 42.
Some of you might regard that as a handicap, but at the time I assumed everyone was born fully grown in a corporate test kitchen. In fact, I still think of it as an advantage; like being born with a silver spoon in my hand.
|
106541
|
You're riding on the edge The edge of life and death Popping pills Shooting thrills Snorting coke and meth Running fast from it all Heading for a fall Needle in your arm What do you care Who does it harm Looks change at will With each and every pill …
|
106594
|
He wasn't sure if I was joking.
|
106566
|
alright alright but not so much of a friendly little cigar-chomping companion-like a friendly ghost. That sweeping hair of longed for sleeping only awaits you once you've drowned too …
|
106553
|
Your face seems faint against the violet glades; The long winds echo once, then fail to start. Some wounding scent has stripped my hopes apart That dwelled to scent you. From the cavalcades The leaves make, bare at times since eve's sting fades To…
|
10651413
|
Magdalena White Herrington praised the lucky stars who’d sent her the Klonakilty ghosts.
|
106500
|
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…
|
10651010
|
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…
|
106512
|
|
106577
|
I could put on some music, but it just pushes me further away from you, so it seems. It takes me out far beyond the safety breakers and then reintroduces me to my own splashing two-fisted fear of swimming. You can swim through …
|
106543
|
Cliffs are not all I've known, but I've seen them every day since I came to light. When I first broke out of the shell that protected me from feet and poisons, I pushed my way into darkness. It was soil. I could not have survived if it was light, and when I surfaced there…
|
106531
|
Flowing, Flown In the field stands a jealous man with fifteen eyes stored inside the cuffs of well-worn khaki pants. His pockets pull with clinking dimes…
|
106531
|
ghosts of the previous owners who leave a trail of whispers
|
1065113
|
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