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He rolls in unbidden across the stubble fields /
Old acquaintance astride a newly booming cloud/
Under sky an alien shade of strawberries whipped/
Her watch stops ticking out the rest of her/
scheduled breathing poses
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where will we be/ when it happens?
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“She’s very sick. She’s dying,” and he smoothed my hair along my neck.
“It’s leukemia. A very rare type,” his hand reached my shoulder and stopped there.
“She only has a few months.”
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I am not responsible for any nightmares this piece may cause for all you mice lovers!
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in her bedroom, opening night of his solo show she is snapping her nylons to center the seam stretching from her toes to where the line disappears into the hem of her dress.
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Beautiful, he thinks, as he taps the ash of his cigarette over the balcony, but this is not good enough.
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Ross, I've been a ghost hunter for almost 10 years now and this is a place I said I WOULD NEVER NEVER EVER go to!
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i saw a sign and it read A PERSON THAT IS MEAN TO THE WAITER IS A MEAN PERSON i thought of you with your high cheekbones, the sense of entitlement unparalleled, the superiority complex that hid much you had a gig and it had probably…
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His shirts he hangs on the back of the chair, one on top the other so they won't wrinkle.
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But she didn't. It would have been no historical anomaly if she had, by the way. She played with the world like it was a toy. Sometimes I wondered if I'd wake up in a box, a victim of live internment, and scream only to be humiliated later by her laughter
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As I fall to the ground I realize that in a few moments I will be experiencing a new kind of pain. The last pain. The last pain I will ever feel.
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"Sometimes things just don’t go as planned. It doesn’t mean anyone is to blame - It just is."
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Grayson Warren is living the American Dream: a 15-year career as a city cop, a great wife and two kids. And then one day his dream turns into a nightmare.
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my crotch-heavy press of 'Yes.'
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like old discarded snake skin,
dry and coarse after the bite...
immortally tortured by broken glass bottles.
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The dead want you to calm down.They are quite fine, and don't needyour post-mortem tears, the flowers and veils; their names mispronounced by preachers. None of your catechisms will do -- especiallyfor the children, who know them well and need no…
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The manicured lawn rolls down either side of the knoll, punctuated with flat granite plaques, the occasional bouquet of cut flowers, a smattering of faded eight-inch American flags.
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Uzma dashes up the stairs ahead of me . . .
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"I'm just going to
take a power nap!"
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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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Cooking dinner for one in a city that isn’t my home. A beautiful city that I’m slowly losing interest in, just as I become a local. In a tiny apartment set in the most realistic part of town, I’ve turned the music up loud to drown out my thoughts.
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She tossed the big bird into the air. It wobbled, then flew away.
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Is this sought sea dream of the Arctic fox? The green below the circles of the white, above her eyes? On Formica tables where the woman smocks beneath glass borders of their vacant smiles, they pass by windows formulating styles,…
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1442 0 0
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When we saw the window, we were impressed. It was so clean and transparent that it reminded us of a new pair of glasses, everything so crisp and clear through it. It looked on to nothing. Actually it looked on to the refridgerators and a few stoves, though most of the…
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I should have never gotten involved in such a huge lie. I was a poet, for God's sake, not a novelist. I wasn't used to lying.
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Natty looking
in his 2-tone shoes
and argyle socks
blue blazer
with 3 gold buttons
on each cuff
pale yellow
hemp or burlap
necktie, of course
with a blue shirt
(never white!!)
long mopish hair
hanging on his forehead
and a
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Feeding you a taste of croissant
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ghosts of the previous owners who leave a trail of whispers
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