1400 3 3
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His granddaughter, Ivy, sat on his knee looking at an old photo album she found under the couch during one of her afternoon explorations. She made him wipe off the dust and cobwebs before he took her through all the pictures, per normal protocol. The albu
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1400 4 2
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Yellows and reds shed
warp and weft
bobbins of color
spooling...
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her expressive sigh releasing. Sated. The last of our kind, evolving flightless we remain on the ground, culling through corpulent consumption.
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1399 3 4
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My friend, drunk, spoke to me / outside a bar where we hung out; / and his eyes were red from tiredness,
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1399 5 3
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1399 5 0
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An expanse of trees, grass, scrub, heathers, sky, space. A grey horse, the type her gran would have placed a bet on, approaches. "Don't like flies?" he asks. He holds her gaze, walks closer. Seventeen black flies crawl over the right side of his head. "What…
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1399 1 1
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They run nonstop for weeks. Between traffic stalled cars. Down forgotten subways tunnels drilled long ago in the cold earth. Past burning sugarcane fields.
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Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh; the rhythmic thrust of Mezereon’s wings…Th-Bumm, th-bumm, th-bumm; the drumming of his heart…Hooou, hooou, hooou; the exhalations of his breath…
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1399 2 1
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[ADVERTISEMENT: If you look for it, Google search, for 'html special characters,' the UT Austin page will come up, and you can just Cut & Paste 'em. Fuck the code!]
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1399 3 3
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we ran that afternoon/across Bayshore lanes/into green blooming fields, beyond all those
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1399 1 2
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I was sitting at my desk at work and couldn't figure out why it felt like a person with a very weak grip was trying to strangle me. Then, I realized I was wearing a scarf.
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I lay on a table in a cold room in one of those little blue gowns that open in back.
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now I cannot shake. I am only one person. Thereis a sadness I cannot understand. Fathom. Control. Manipulate. Detonate.I used to kiss her tenderly. Do you think this sadness is wise to us? Don't point that gun at me! There is a sadness. There is another war. Iam…
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Picture it-/
air not clogged with the shit//
that makes Beijing the dark joke/
of the developed world.
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I’m just your ordinary poem,
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1399 0 0
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What do you mean dope in the front seat. I always keep my dope in the trunk. I mean hey, children DO steal.
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1399 5 3
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The questions piled up so high I thought I'd neverget through the door.The ease of alcohol, the incline of submission. Guttural sounds and spittle.Wipe down the morning afterwith a shower.Redress in last night's clothes.There's coffee if you want it.Sincerity too -no,…
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1399 3 1
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Ashford Garth Willingsham IV stood looking out at the Gulf of Mexico from his mansion on Longboat Key. In his right hand was a letter from his divorce lawyer, Reynard Foxx...
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1398 5 3
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Your face seems faint against the violet glades; The long winds echo once, then fail to start. Some wounding scent has stripped my hopes apart That dwelled to scent you. From the cavalcades The leaves make, bare at times since eve's sting fades To…
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1398 0 0
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A sort of invocation of the open sky, in contradistinction to the dark of the Earth whence came the specimens, a figurative marriage of the literal darkness of exploration and the figurative light of knowledge.
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1398 6 4
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Beware of shouting Dress Barn, Dress Barn! when having an orgasm
And don’t tell him you were seeing Starbucks when you came
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1398 3 1
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She seizes my hand. I resist just enough to sense her strength.
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1398 2 0
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If you had gotten pregnant our last time, in 1967 (when you lied and told me “I guess I’m finally over you,”) then our son could have been that man you saw with the drooping moustache and his coattails flying in the lobby of the building in Louisville,
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1398 0 0
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Was he really a Secret Service guy? No time to think now! Quick as lightning, Rachel bounded over the sleeping matron and sprinted up the aisle.
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For Takama this created the second conundrum of the day. One even bigger than the first. When he’d first learnt that sensei and he would be boarding a flight together for a series of demonstrations in Geneva, little had he expected he would be locked up i
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As a child I drowned myself in the pages of books, and as a writer I prefer to be left alone with my imagination.
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I hand one of them the octopus and run out of the room.
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1398 1 1
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It was a mildly windy day of the working week in the financial district of the city—the bright morning sun was out—when a security guard was called to the fifteenth floor to deal with a disruption.
“This way.”
Someone pointed to a desk. At the desk
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I know you through the rich dark brown soilcrumbling in my fingers like chocolate cake.I imagine you nurtured bell-shaped papayas,coaxing their smooth, leathery skinfrom green to yellow,while mangoes, the colors of the island sunset,hung with their tantalizing sweet…
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