1439 2 1
|
Oh sweet, sweet morning light
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1439 2 1
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One can’t predict the final cadence of one’s life.
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1439 8 4
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A man bows his head
and crosses his chest
before crossing the street
and the rain keeps falling
on his bare blue shirt
and on top of his head
The taxis will not stop
The light’s still red
as the man waits
for the sign of the hands
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1439 6 1
|
HORDES OF MEN desolated, struck down, destroyed, sunken form of skin and skeleton, bare cloth matted to torso, bodycage and hipbone, face and neck darkened, bloating to black, rain the endless dream stuck fast in the stone-dead skull and blood a fine sheen over all,…
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1439 4 4
|
people keep trying to get me/ "out of the house"./ they see fun in me, and cool in me,/ and want to spend time with me,/ and i am flattered most sincerely./
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1439 4 2
|
A walled city doesn’t let you out any more easily that it has let you in earlier.
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1439 2 2
|
'Like poems,’ I said
she paused and nodded
her black mop.
|
1439 0 0
|
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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1439 2 2
|
"...does the nurse, doctor or veterinarian experience greater sexual satisfaction than say the housewife in DesMoines or the sixth grade English teacher in Passaic?"
|
1439 3 3
|
Where we’ve penned heart shaped question marks, seeds sprouting bowed heads, a congregation of confused supplicants.
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1439 6 6
|
The four Grannies say, “GO!” and leap from the window. King's pickup is below, and he has lined the bed with his mother's throw pillows. Sundresses fly. Blue plastic diapers billow. They want cigarettes. I light their smokes with King's pearl-handled lighter as…
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1439 2 2
|
A single woman should regard every train ride as an opportunity, I once read in one of those “How to Find A Boyfriend” books. “When boarding the train, don't take the first available seat,“ the author advised. “Walk through all the cars…
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1439 4 0
|
like old discarded snake skin,
dry and coarse after the bite...
immortally tortured by broken glass bottles.
|
1439 5 2
|
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.
|
1439 0 0
|
Should probably be faster at the cash register
|
1439 7 5
|
I'm hearing a noise. I can't see it. It's hiding and seems to be coming from the other side of the creek. With boots on I slowly wade across. The water makes its light lapping sounds. Reaching the bank, I search for the noise. It must have a face, suntanned and warm, that I…
|
1439 5 5
|
I'm not sure whetherI drink to numbthe pain or toactually feelsomething.
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1438 3 2
|
I am not responsible for any nightmares this piece may cause for all you mice lovers!
|
1438 4 1
|
Ben was not a happy musician.
|
1438 2 0
|
The story of a second, a stone, and an android -- all curiously interrelated and all, coincidentally, named Gretchen
|
1438 1 1
|
I dream about the boy in The Neverending Story, the gate of mirrors, and the Nothing, a dark cloud that floats in the sky, takes away everything.
|
1438 1 1
|
Max sighed. Solving for x was boring, so mind numbingly boring that he didn't notice the flickering blue light hovering in his room. It crackled and popped, growing until a shimmering rectangle stretched from floor to ceiling.A hand pushed out from the rectangle, and a…
|
1438 8 2
|
He bites and imagines, numbed by want.
|
1438 19 11
|
Culture gives what it feels you deserve/
in the cul-de-sac of your time and place.
|
1438 2 2
|
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.
|
1438 16 5
|
As the music concludes, I'm finally in control of my emotions . . .
|
1438 3 2
|
"Sometimes things just don’t go as planned. It doesn’t mean anyone is to blame - It just is."
|
1438 2 3
|
While serving in government, she plotted to change it.
|
1438 8 8
|
My stories are ramshackle; they lurch along in old sweaters with holes and missing buttons, drinking from mismatched cups and saucers.
|
1438 1 1
|
we all die from the bottom up
|