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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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Today I’m feeling crabby and haggard and technology makes it easy to get to the point.
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I love Hooters. Best cheese steak in town in my opinion.
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When I was younger, I tried very hard to be myself, but it never worked. I'd close my eyes, wait a beat, open them and slowly bring them into focus. This is the new me, the only me. Never worked, not once. It could only last a minute or two, so I…
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...bush tail beside him his closest comfort next to the genes...
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I am not responsible for any nightmares this piece may cause for all you mice lovers!
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He had a lean build, except, remarkably, his midsection was perfectly barrel-like. As if he kept an alien lifeform in his belly, cultivated by years of Pabst and Yuengling transfusions.
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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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Got something inside me
hard as nails
keeps me walking upright
ain't never failed
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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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"...does the nurse, doctor or veterinarian experience greater sexual satisfaction than say the housewife in DesMoines or the sixth grade English teacher in Passaic?"
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how the world is constantlyrevolving her mirroredorbs around the roomlooking for someone tohypnotize, a goddesshell-bent on catching agoon to mortal with; andas you lie from behindyourself so shall she lie withyou. Now, do you reallywant my answer to…
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I pat my pocket to make sure everything’s in order; a Starbucks blueberry scone to sustain me, a $50 Brooks Brothers gift card from my in-laws, and my “piece”–a fully-charged BlackBerry handheld device.
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My stories are ramshackle; they lurch along in old sweaters with holes and missing buttons, drinking from mismatched cups and saucers.
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we all die from the bottom up
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Take 1. The Love Letter to an Unspoken Name Well we're beyond our appointed Moment now. We must step On what's left, alone, but That begs some explanation to These days that pinball between Stars and to the sad dreamers…
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"I'm just going to
take a power nap!"
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say no / to me / and devastate me / and I will take it / as god's will / to drown me / in a vat / of my own / entrails
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Darkness was fast approaching. I stuck out my tongue at Naya, and she reached out as if to grab…
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It was the first warm day of a late-arriving spring. Ben was sitting in his divorce lawyer’s office on Maiden Lane in lower Manhattan.
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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…
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The most unoriginal, trite and hackneyed story ever written!
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I'm not sure whetherI drink to numbthe pain or toactually feelsomething.
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A hinge in my heart is broken.
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The world has long since been bootlegged by madmen. The new invisible con men are the same as the old visible con men, hiding and lying behind their walls of lingering death. There's a weapon wielding demon hell bent on an insane vengeance crawling around…
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Later, my daughter told me that she hadn't been scared because as I lay on the ground unconscious I continued to laugh, gradually relaxing into a big smile as I came around a minute later.
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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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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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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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I. Europa How else to begin but with Gustave Holst's Mars--the gods waging war in romantic twilight as drumbeats and cannons blast swathes in the gloaming and glory awaits in the halls of black smoke. A visual perhaps:…
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