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It is your music that makes me want to crack open my ribcage and rip out my heart as it still beats, to cauterize my carotids, and shove the mechanical insides of a clock into my thoracic cavity.
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and, once in a rare while,/
actual pearls.
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every timeyou openyour mouthan angel fallsinto a vat of whiskyshut ityou're fucking up heaven2013 - Rene
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Lottie was a slim, fine looking woman. But Dale thought her breast implants were the worst case of overkill he had ever seen.
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Artie Shaw gave Ava Gardner a reading list in preparation for their honeymoon that included The Brothers Karamazov, The Origin of the Species, Das Kapital and The Magic Mountain.
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(2:56 a.m.): "Hi it's Charlie it's Pat at 4:00 in the morning my time. I just wanna tell you that I wouldn't mind getting him in bed with you the rest of my life."
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In the blur she met Joseph. Joseph was the priest who lived in the attic of the church. She met him after she grew boobs and thighs that moved like dragonflies soaring above ponds.
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And here’s a picture of you
at the end of the line
to the great toilet of
fiction, waiting to
relieve yourself, quick
before the poetry gets to you.
Or worse, the actual
poets.
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Gnarly Berger was born in a guitar case in Istanbul. His mother was an Iranian singer from Israel accompanied by a Turkish santur player & a French guitarist (Gnarly's biological father) and into whose guitar case Gnarly entered this world, somewhat by accident,…
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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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1390 1 1
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away into a gale then
sleet he gurgled with
eddie the pike till
he yearned and
twirled the oracle
of spider gloss
till he slipped
alone into the sky
to find her in a violet
rain they splat together
back to back on the rail
in the rumbling tumbl
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1390 5 4
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The cellar smelled like an aroused muskrat.
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Meanwhile it was four o'clock in the morning, Pacific time. Seven o'clock eastern. The cat was busy chasing imaginary mice around the hammock—at least Manuel hoped the mice were imaginary. He loaded the next digital images onto the screen. It seemed to
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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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1390 1 1
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I took advantage of a free period this afternoon to nap. When I awoke, I tasted blood. My tongue was swollen. I checked myself in the mirror and saw twin punctures on my lower lip with pinpricks of blood on each. I winked at my reflection and lifted my li
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She put the Necco wafer on Sally's tongue."You can't be the priest, Emma" Sally said nearly choking on the hard, chalky disk."Then why you on yaw knees stupid?""You said to be prayin' and like in church, but you can't be doin' priest stuff. That's for…
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They can’t exterminate the poor just yet
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While serving in government, she plotted to change it.
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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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1390 6 4
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I'm an older guy. She is still quite young. I tell her I may be too old but she giggles and tells me that she did the research and it said because there is snow on the roof doesn't mean no fire's in the stove. She proved it. Things like this. We excite ourselves,…
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1390 1 1
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sometimes we saw it in the sky. we'd stand on invisible stairs trying to reach it. running like frightened geese. we were going to catch up with it. grab onto its string. pull it down.
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Not today. Even when the Isar rolls so cool and deep and I could wade and wade 'til sleep. Not today. When I have the tablets in a drawer in a box winking chalkily at me. Not today. When the church tower soars and it's bells toll out a seductive beat …
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another lonely drone holding still
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It starts with a letter, down the back of the couch, ending, ‘love, always.' I read only the kisses aimed at me - a firing line running off the page. How long has that letter hidden there? It secreted itself in a corner of the house…
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1390 2 2
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Happy Birthday to me.
It takes just a second on waking to remember,
It's June but it feels like December.
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Overhead cranes balance ordinance from one end of the palatial enclosure to the other. There are robots, high-voltage, force-fields…more than a hundred ways someone could get hurt. I looked back again…She was gone.
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What the spaces say//
can be heard in the short/
and longer silences
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beckoning with citrus streaks blue cobbled streets/and stuccos lit with gold lamps guide strollers here/to Place du Forum in Arles and this café . . .
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We can’t just bomb Berlin or Dresden,/
Nagasaki or Hanoi, to make things safe
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On Tuesday, he wears his suit to the cafe. Of course they'll let him pay! Of course. Under the table, his wife accepts their wadded bills.
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