1992 25 15
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Do you suppose you could make your female protagonist a salamander rather than a human?
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1992 2 2
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They sway from his hips, the torn knapsack, and the corners of the pushcart
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1992 12 6
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It’s about 4:30 when the phone rings. I look at the display and see it’s home.
“Hey,” I say picking up.
“I hate you,” says Jules.
“I hate, you, too,” I say. My co-workers don’t even blink. They’ve heard this before.
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1991 20 14
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“We don’t drop litter. Pick it up.”
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1991 24 13
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She was still alive when I started to write the story of her life, called Lucy's Story, about her recovery from catnip, but it was not the real story. In the fake story, she took the subway to A.A.
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1991 0 1
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I retrieved the book from the middle of the room and set it in front of her. "Look," I said. "If we open the book up again at the beginning, Charlotte's alive. She'll always be alive in the book."
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1990 44 26
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Del and I watched my brother toe his way to the edge of the cottonwood branch that arched over the reservoir.
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1990 9 6
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No, I just liked what it said "All at Once Is What Eternity Is" which seemed right to my seventeen year old mind, explained it all to me the way nothing else did. I matted the poster in art class and put it in a frame over my bed. Betty hated the poster.
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1990 7 1
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In Nebraska, we found a dead man lying between the furrows of a field. He’d been there awhile in the heat and the sun, the only shade provided by a cloud of flies. The dead man lay on the ground, decaying, disappearing into the dirt:
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1989 6 4
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1989 22 12
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Then it got quiet again, the kind of quiet that fills a car even with the radio on and the highway ticking away and the corn flying past regimented and silk tasseled.
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1989 9 10
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When Matthew calls I'm sautéing garlic for the polenta and Joe is squeezing buttercream rosettes from a Ziploc bag onto a spice cake he made from scratch. Or trying to—we…
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1988 29 23
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*** Winner of the 15th Glass Woman Prize. Thank you, Beate Sigriddaughter.
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1988 21 8
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Women with tremulous breasts. Going down the swimming pool drain.
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1987 15 15
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for Bill YarrowPoetry is a way of breathingagainst the enemy's chest withoutlosing consciousness again. Itis a ghost dance. Poetry is tobe determined by the plight of bees.Poetry is a waterfall ona mailing list. I've never tasteda finer whiskey than poetry.Poetry is half…
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1987 12 6
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I watch as my character falls lifelessly to the ground. I press the square button and I am instantly revived.
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1985 13 12
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We have no more leaders, only rulers who live in another country. I don't ask why my cousin's hand is bandaged, what he's been burning, what's tarped in his truck.
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1985 18 10
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1. a bone to pick"It seems to be accepted nowadays more than ever that killing,individual and mass killing,is the order of the day;it is accepted."--Henry MillerWhy can't you leave well enough alone just long enough for it to make its own miraculous escape…
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1985 7 2
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There is a boy. The boy is standing in front of a munificent peach tree in all the splendor and atrophy of his afternoon existing. Shadows? Yes. There are midday shadows, hiding and seeking, long and greyish to offset the bright reds and violets and orang
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1985 4 6
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Her husband goes hard on her. No blushes--he goes hard all over, not just in the assumed area. He could have Blip! disappeared instead, how would his wife have liked that? He has to make a choice, his captors are waiting, they don't have time, that is to…
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1984 14 4
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I still walk into galleries. A shadow of my old self still walks into galleries. That old self was hungry to be wounded by the juxtaposition of color and form and texture and line and darkness and light. But I can no longer see art. I can…
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1983 15 13
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and all the trees are holding/their limbs up in prayer/and rain is mating with soil
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1983 26 26
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Hers is the kind of crazy that can't be masked. She's worn it on her sleeves since tenth grade.
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1983 37 31
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Under the tree of the one apple, the Tin Man waited for his Tin Woman. He wanted to ask her to become his Tin Wife.
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1982 13 13
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The love of hundreds of people, seemingly, rain down from the sky, but its not like when the cock hits the good spot inside you. And everybody who is reading this knows this is true. We all know what that feels like, that aha moment, that eiphany, like,
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1982 2 1
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Simon Ridley only had one special power. Whenever he walked into a room, an awkward silence would descend.
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1982 20 7
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Well, it’s a cold dance we dance this morning. You are up at the crack of dawn and the bed is empty even before you leave. I pretend to sleep so I can revel in the delicious morning ritual I know will be ending soon. I hear you brew coffee, shower, tal
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1982 6 4
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Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison, Roy Orbison—right now that’s all I can say.
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1982 0 0
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When I went to the SPCA, I had the intention of looking for a Beagle. I had done the research and thought the breed would be a good fit for my lifestyle. I am a long distance runner and wanted some company on the long night runs. I wanted a dog that would…
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1981 39 18
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Lined up like ghosts on the front lawn, the second-hand porcelain fixtures had embarrassed her.
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