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Maggie

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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

Mercury Unbound - 5

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As the music concludes, I'm finally in control of my emotions . . .

Waves of Memory

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"Sometimes things just don’t go as planned. It doesn’t mean anyone is to blame - It just is."

Conspiracy

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I was convinced that enemy bombers were on the way.

A Poem for Chris Toll

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we all die from the bottom up

philanthropy from a cardboard box + a detour to Han-shan

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philanthropy corrugated with a smirk / printed aside every cardboard box and room / every cardboard house with every cardboard door.

Woman in a Film Running to Save Her Love

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If she does not get to him in time, / all is lost.

Exquisite Now

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In the exquisite now, I feel everything around me, in me, before and after, I think, I should call you, say goodnight, but I do not, choose instead to write this poem, as though I can capture the magic of what is happening between us in words, A…

Lost Keys

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The most unoriginal, trite and hackneyed story ever written!

Happy Birthday to Me

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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.

crave

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The look that warms.

Dear Friend

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Dear Friend: As a visitor to Wonderland in the past, you are truly among our most treasured friends. It is the enthusiasm for whimsy such as yours that spurs us to continue to provide perplexing chaos for which we are so widely esteemed, the better to

How We Fight

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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,…

Modern Teleology

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little curly moustaches

Taking Leave

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A walled city doesn’t let you out any more easily that it has let you in earlier.

Falling

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Sometimes when I fall I see a ...

“The Confession of the Sorcerer of Darkness”

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A dark and mysterious account of an ancient traveler seeking arcane literature, and the miserable results to him after he receives what he sought.

Arcana Magi Pure Vol.7 - c.2

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Mayumi and Rumiko stood at the top of a hill into stone forest, with the town in view from a distance. The mist made a single path, safe for everyone to travel through. In the town, there were lights flickering everywhere, some areas in total darkness.

Youngish Professor, or Grad Student TA

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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

Cranshaw Engages in Debate

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They were discussing reincarnation, what animals they would come back as. "I'd be a vole," Cranshaw said. Is a vole even an animal? Connie asked.

Another Ending

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you tell a stranger's story...

Olfactory

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Life to her had come to resemble one of those mazes you find in a puzzle book, inscrutable except by those with exceptional IQs. Mary would run her pencil down one path in search of the passage that might penetrate to the exit, then another, but the paths

Honey Bee Men

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"...she's been seeming like she's been dreaming while awake lately..."

Two Takes on a Flickering Moth

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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…

Figures in Disquieting Landscapes

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Tentacles hold fast to the small/ thrashing thing they believe is true// which, devoured, once crushed/ completely still, turns into shit,

What I'd Have to Call My 'Meatsack Family'

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This story is a work of fiction. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is coincidental and unintentional and should not be inferred. (Really!)

A Song To Lose Your Shoes To

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You’ve got me standin’ on my knees, A’searchin’ for a beggar’s alms, From folks who’re deaf to all my pleas And blind to open palms.

Jack

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We’ve already agreed on a date when Jack posts some new pictures of himself. I have to swallow. Hard. In four days Jack’s become twenty years older! On Thursday, a boyish thirty-something was smiling at me from my PC. This Monday I find myself stari

The Humanists

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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.”

Tendencies

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Will he do it with a gun? If it’s a gun, will it be a short one, shaved so he can hold it against his head. Will it look like the photograph he showed me, black and brown. I told him he couldn’t possibly buy something like that from a Walmart.