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Irony is written sarcasm. Sarcasm is spoken irony: the opposite of what is meant. Catholic irony in fiction seems deeper and more related to theme. Protestant irony starts with P as do other þing.
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The blind can be a little bit
Angry now and then
Trying to be independent
They don’t want or need your help
Usually. They’re a little like bees
You have to learn to leave them alone
But I remember one day when I
Guided the fingers of Bli
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And pity us, this generation of sighing:
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the burning thrusts/
of yellow in defiance of the frost
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Tuesday morning while Frank was in Dr. Jawarski’s office, Michiko was sitting in the waiting room of a gynecologist’s office.
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She did not know the passage of time, for she was just a bedraggled little kitty, but she stayed behind the lattice for many rising and settings of the Sun.
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The bad optical, crossed or dead or lazy or stray
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I may have gone
A little soft in the brain
But I swear I still see it
The angel closes the rain
Even God has to refrain
From causing us pain
When the angel closes the rain
So the angel closes the rain
At the end of time
The angel mus
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Crouching like little children in a game of hide & seek, we entered the old house, slowly
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Breasts were developed after World War II, the result of improved nutrition and the additional muscle mass that “Rosie the Riveter”-types acquired through manual labor in jobs that males abandoned to join the war effort.
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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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But, The Driver talked about speed. Something about pulling her off easy or we’ll blow our tires. “No telling what’s off that shoulder,” he’d say.
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the tall, thin ectomorph sat
on the verdant, green grass
as the unclothed naked woman
on the Sunday-picnic blanket
poured white cow’s milk
into a vodka shot glass
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He thought of it as magic, but magic that he understood, the way a magician knows about the hidden compartments in his hat and trunks.
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Inspired by the photographic work of Susan Lipper. Grapevine series, 1988-92.
http://susanlipper.com/gv_23.html
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An excited state
with undiscovered borders, the almost space -
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It’s a compromising situation...
The would be Bride of Christ begins perspiring
before the crowd.
Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring echoes through the antique church
just one more time,
a little loud.
With every added verse and every flickering vigi
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There's no sky like that
with twisting clouds shot up into by cypress
trees that are so like dark green flames
leaping out of the earth as if a dark green
oily pool were on fire underground,
and this was all that could escape, was
its essence.
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Once a friend asked me to write about rape in an email, so I wrote that it is a weapon of war that would not work here because partners do not give in to it; in fact, they would say it is infidelity in relationships.
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She was there then gone then there again. We were naked and wet and touching, she let me touch her, but she didn't want to be there. But she was, despite herself. It was my dream. You can go if you want. …
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A nuclear-plant fuel rod engineer, Dimitri Kastrotov, had an axe to grind, so invented an atomic deterrent, to counterbalance mankind. He targeted the filthy rich, greedy sons of a bitch, breeding war, weapons and nukes at a reckless fever pitch After …
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The artist with fork and trowel.
The paint; soil, seed, seedling or plug.
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Six just left to drive 8 hours thru the jungle. They’ll emerge in a year in military guerilla uniforms. One guy threw up getting in.
A friend writes, “I started a Free Mike Todaro Campaign. Hope to raise a couple of hundred dollars. We will, of co
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A fat kid running;
the sounds of an ice-cream truck
—counterproductive.
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Living in the dark ages without language,
I think I’ve been dead long enough.
You can come out of the vast fields of night.
Come out of the vast galactic storm without light.
The darkened dreams
that speed past with their false and brightly lit
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Jillian speeds across the stone wall, the hem of her dress flaps violently behind her. Sometimes she stands with her back fully erect letting perpetual motion guide her down a bend with her sun blonde locks brightening the dreary sky, or she lurches her
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I ask if anyone has a poem or a story they would like to read. Everybody's hand shoots up.
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