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In the vaultwhere no one had daredsince your first stillborn screamsI swept out your deadThe gnawing thingsboneless and dustyand stinking of churchesYou came to me thenand I took youthere in the shadowsunder the tree on the grassnear the reeds by the lakeI dived in your…
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1344 2 2
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The Third Defenestration happened during the Soviet era, by the apparatchiks. The only thing that saved the people from certain death after being thrown out of the window of the Prague Castle, was an enormous pile of horse shit below, or haufen mist, as t
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Madame B would come once a week and tell me things that I needed to know in exchange for some free items. She would come and grasp my hand while telling me the same thing week after week. Madame B always told me to relax and things would eventually come.
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1343 2 1
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Neighbors trade novels
through windows
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1343 6 5
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Everything was cool until she used the phrase, "five million dollar home."
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1343 3 2
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Death.
That which lays all men equal in the eyes of the earth.
Their is one for each of us, a unique snowflake of demise tailor made for every organism that persists in this convoluted game of life.
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1343 8 2
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I had ink for blood then and “the news” was my oxygen.
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1343 7 3
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the sun is quiet like the mountains,
the birds except for their wings
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1343 15 7
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but most times/
it’s just improvisation//
with phrases of unknown origin/
swirling in my head
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A dirtied light falls through/
the grimed windowpanes.
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1343 5 6
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He opened an old book,flipping through its yellowedpages. A small piece of blue paperfell to the floor; he picked it up."Meet Tom at 4:00. Julius Bar."Standing there, Tom appearedas he sat down with the note,putting Tom back together:Tall, he remembered; Irish,green eyes…
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A friend has been shopping an opera around without success. It's about Arthur Inman, a hypochondriac who hired people to talk to and, in some cases, have sex with him.
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he wound up hating the woman he betrayed in his heart for betraying him in her body
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1343 1 1
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She's waiting there, for you, in bed
but the analgesic cigarette
calms your mind more than her heat.
She's there waiting, in your bed,
eyes closed, fluttering, somewhere
between the dream and practical world.
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1343 8 4
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Do you know this song, Julia? I happened upon it one evening and only just before meeting you, a month before meeting, a month before arriving?
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1343 9 5
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I understand why Warhol said/
“I want to be a machine.”/
Forget this sorry clay.
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“Please excuse the form letter, but due to the volume of god-awful submissions that we receive, we do not have the time to crush the spirit of each writer personally.”
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1343 8 5
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He hid gallons in the garage,Fifths in the basement,Pints in toilet tanks,Airline bottles were on his person at all times.But he wasn't drinking.Why would he?He'd bought the cure at an expensive CenterThat taught him YogaAnd acupunctured away his brokenness.The cure worked,…
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1343 4 1
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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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1343 7 2
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It waited and witnessed the seasons complete a grouping and form a year. Then it watched them do it again. Winter, spring, summer, fall. It watched from the inside of course. But it could see. Big sliding glass doors and long and wide windows stayed the course also, way…
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1342 3 3
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You, who reaches in, touches me in that moment of decision, and knows I’ll be everything you’ve looked forward to tonight.
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1342 2 1
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Just an abnormal visit to the post office.
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The bird sat there some time. Several minutes. My wife and I grabbed out i-Pads and took pictures.
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The dead girl was his niece’s daughter. Only thirteen years old.
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Saturday at Portobello market. Wind whittles leaves from the trees; casts shop signs into windows, turning glass to shimmering fishscale.
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It's one of the most difficult problems of aesthetic philosophy: What do we mean when we say that a song is sad? None of the big names--Aristotle, Kant, Croce–Benedetto, not Jim–come close to answering it.
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1342 4 4
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“I'm in love,” Satan said to me cheerily. I could tell he was in a good mood. He was whistling as he came up my sidewalk. There was a spring in his step. He carried his mail tucked under his arm.“I'm in love,” he said …
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I'll still want the blinds open
and the lights on,
to see the papier-mache of our flesh
fighting death away to the century mark,
even if you only want to live until
a ripe eighty-two.
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The title of the overdue book returned to a public library in San Francisco 100 years after it had been checked out? Forty Minutes Late.(Readers Digest, 04/17)In 1999, Kathy McKeon, Jackie Kennedy's former assistant, went to a Halloween party dressed in a Marge Simpson…
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a man and a woman in a room at the end of the world.
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