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He woke up four hours later with the second worst headache of his life. He leaned against the car door, his face against the window, and pulled the handle to open the door, but it smacked against the back wall vibrating the glass against his cheek. He tri
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Wild bore the wind down on me, coming out of the heavens that turned around the stars of the evening. The longing and the appetite at work in the body, all tickling to open a girl’s mane, gaping, health-giving crossroads to the body. Hail and farewell t
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Lips to graceful curve, / Found a well from which / This dancing lifeblood comes / (Again and again)...
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Early morning cokeBottle. Did Katie callHeiddegger "Skippy"?Remember years backWhen we studied so hard andHa ha, just kidding.As you age, neverForget you are dying noFaster than before.
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I woke up when the smoke alarm insisted. Either the curtains were on fire or I hadn't changed the battery.
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". . . Stinkin' vampires, death to all of ’em, them and their plague-festerin' rats. But the new ones, I don’t mind takin’ ’em down before gettin’ rid of ’em. —But you’ll never get that smell off o’ you if you use only one condom, I’m here to tell you . .
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Azure understood now. She felt it there as she remembered what she told Sora after her ordeal with the domed creature.
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And I am reminded of river eyes:
The summer we slumbered,
Like mummies in the sand
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It was a Thursday. That's when I found out about the blueberries. Those precious, round little wonders, now forever untouchable.I left the note on the ledge of the balcony, taped down so it wouldn't fly away.It was going to come to this, eventually. After…
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“Gentlemen, how could I go about attracting the KGB?”
Now that got the attention of Boris and Vladimir. Their eyes bulged right out of their heads. They both started huffing and puffing.
“What are you, crazyman or something?” said Boris.
Vla
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the strength in you i envy/ leaves me naked, sweating in the dust/ while you possess what ethic i pretend to have/ in the face of those who expect from me/ so much more.
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He will feast and die beneath the glaring gaze of the western sky, waiting patiently for what will come next
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last night a girl came
to me in the shape
of my suicide.
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Wind was a sorry excuse for force
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They come to wipe themselves from my memory, but that, of course, is impossible. In this place, we are bound together, the long line of men who have killed me, and I.
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The bar was packed. Fascinated, Tom watched the shenanigans going on around him.
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The shoreline was further inland than he remembered, a good thirty feet or so since his last visit. He stood in waist deep water — the waves of the emerald green Gulf tumbling upon his pale white torso. He had always been disappointed with the beach as a child.…
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I've been in Tucson two days, and so far most of my conversations with my father have taken place while I crane my neck and squint into the sun. I scream up, he screams down.
He needs to fix the leaky roof before the rainy season, he says.
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“What the fuck!” Duke muttered, amazed at what he was seeing in the darkened store. A thin curtain of smoke was rising from under the baseboard like an inverted waterfall. It stretched the entire length of the left wall. Holy shit, the joint's on fire! I…
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Deny yourself that pleasure
For my sake; that feeling beyond measure
That you get when you finally, and with much angst,
Decide not to be a bitch, to a round of general thanks.
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Rainy eyes fall fast somewhere
close to me
Riding the wind like lust
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The entire room seems waiting for me like an octopus behind a closed, chained door. The monk of the lamp knows he will get his daily turn-on if he prays loudly and just enough for it. The favorite chair has my blue dent in its punched…
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My relationship with Uzma exists on several levels, from basic to abstract, from animal magnetism to spiritual journey.
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The poet could not speak of himself
but only of the gradations leading toward
him and away. ~ Mark Strand
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Gripping the sink, head bowed, I let the blood gather on the rim of my nose, pooling for a moment, before its fleeting journey towards the basin.
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Writing opens doors to perception. For example, the glockenspiel smells of gardenias, but the catwalk is opening a can of Franklin stove. It emits fumes of fairyland and olive. And in the green and pleasant country of Scotland and England, vintage trains go…
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