1376 3 1
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This year, 2011, you bring about my thirtieth year. I'm apprehensive about this, but mainly because my father made me watch "Logan's Run" as a kid...
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Seeing her in black /
with his arm around her /
from the other side /
of a glass door. /
He gave her a beer. /
She might’ve been thirsty, /
uncomfortable.
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[WE'LL LET *YOU* BE THE JUDGE!]
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1376 0 0
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I honestly can’t say, with Lynda, who cheated first. More than likely Lynda did, because I know she was pregnant when I came home from college for the summer (this was 1963) and we had to go out and find a doctor who would give her some pills to get rid
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paste into browser:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsSKsjOTCFU&feature=em-upload_owner
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1376 4 3
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Today, the buxom neighbor carrying blintzes
Egged me not to care about
What’s not flat. She forgot
To bend, clanging together
Some fronts and sides.
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1376 8 6
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One by one the hundred matte black drones hummed awake. The buzz was loud on the tiny airfield but died out soon among the waving amber heads of Kansas wheat that surrounded the unsigned base.
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1376 4 1
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The Beatles on TV
their last show
together
as a group
and we all
knew it
smoking dope
sitting around in large
groups
in living rooms
across the universe
they sang Let It Be
and The Long and Winding Road
knowing
a man
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The mist monster leaned over the building, drawing its face close to Mayumi. Its’ lavender eyes locked onto the Magi as she stood there ignoring Rumiko’s calls to flee.
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Character & Fitness, the opening chapter to my novel, "Death of the Dying City."
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"Don't pull too hard," warned Father. "You might sever it from the body, spraying blood into your eyes."
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1375 2 0
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It has been two days since nearly seven billion people have gained some extent of super powers and I figure it will only be one or two until they tear this planet asunder. I have had to move from my third story loft and take refuge in the basement of my apartment complex.…
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I look as sympathetic as I can, under the circumstance, which is entirely unsympathetic.
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You're riding on the edge The edge of life and death Popping pills Shooting thrills Snorting coke and meth Running fast from it all Heading for a fall Needle in your arm What do you care Who does it harm Looks change at will With each and every pill …
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1375 0 0
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During the hangover, I crawl to my desktop computer and then Google “rapid STI testing” and “speedy divorce”
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1375 4 1
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Endless. I find this story.Beginning. To walk.Repeating. Repeating.The Memory. Of snow.Amsterdam. Rivers narrow.Hearts. Divide.Hands. Emboldened.Patronizing. Unpatriotic.Semblance. House held open.Forging. The ties…
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. . . once you start reading and thinking about what he's saying, it's like looking at the reflection of your soul in a mirror . . .
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Why not just self-publish on Fictionaut and be read by thousands of my peers? Why not release my cherished work directly to my thousands of Facebook or Twitter or blog friends? Can the budding writer that I am realistically expect a larger audience?
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Before he became famous Faulkner was postmaster at the University of Mississippi Substation Post Office, a fact that endears him to mailmen around the world.
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If you stop, you starve//
and they just offer what you do/
to others, starved already,/
and schooled, as you, in servitude.
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She never leaves her desk, but food appears like magic.
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Dee startled awake from the dream, sat up in bed and looked around the room. The dream came back--hazy, yet clearer by the second. Dee had been warning the girl in her dream that he was a monster; that she shouldn't talk to him, should stay far away from him. …
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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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1375 12 9
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We perform our chosen duty— naming/
beauties and atrocities within
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1375 1 1
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“I love women. They’re like goddesses.”
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1375 10 1
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I saw a woman / at the bar tonight
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“Forever you will be mine” she said to me, and of course I did not believe her. She was a romantic and so was I, and such words habitually dripped out of her lovely mouth like honey from the comb, in a never-ending flow of flattery which I am ashamed to s
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Violet goes with her mother to the home, delivering cookies to old folks. She's getting to hate how she goes along with everything her mother asks. Some of her friends are rebelling already, and Violet feels something under her skin. It's still just a dark shape, lurking…
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The retired, widowed receptionist slapped one hand to the base of her throat with a gasp . . .
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