1244 15 11
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My father taught me how to solder and that's when I first started to write. Now, when you hold the soldering iron in your hand and depress the trigger, the tip of the gun heats up. Novices uncoil the solder and place it on the hot tip, but that just results in it…
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1244 6 4
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Light spreads its way across the sky like a drop of inkon dry cotton sheets:starts at one point and expandsas wind shufflesover bodies, seashoist your sailsand I'll throw this oneoverthe night can have itnowhear the waveshow they seem satisfiedwith their…
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1244 7 1
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The sound of a siren approaches his home. His wife asks him why he's so nervous. It's nothing, he says, but he rises from the couch and peers into the night from behind the curtains. The siren approaches relentlessly. The road twists and turns and the sound fades but always…
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1244 0 1
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When the telephone rang the fallow fields we lay in years ago became distant countries, filled with falling stars. The distant country into which you had disappeared became a pistol with a single bullet in the chamber.
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1244 2 2
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...she did wish she lived somewhere in Ancient Rome, and from one of those seven hills, perhaps during sunset, she would resolve to roll down and meet the flaming orb just as it descended so she would dissolve into embers and ash...
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1244 2 2
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the injured color wheel of the world
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1243 0 0
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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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1243 3 2
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Friday afternoon. Angelique Brody knocked Francesco’s studio door.
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1243 0 0
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He started to concentrate on the music again. It was the album with the crazy picture of Monk on the cover, with a machine gun over his shoulder, a tied-up Gestapo officer and a female resistance fighter standing next to—a cow.
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1243 3 2
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I spent the evening looking at our old pictures. /
We were never happy. I realize that now.
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1243 4 2
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Outbreaks of mass communal dancing—sometimes referred to as “choreomania”—occurred in Europe with some frequency in Europe between the 14th and the 18th centuries.
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1243 0 0
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They've put down roots under the dome. Want to push through the ceiling, blot out the sun. I have other plans.
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1243 5 5
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The boy stared out his window, noting the suns slow and eventual passing behind the distant mountains. He saw his face reflected in the window pane and turned away. His shadow loomed…
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1243 2 1
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Did I refer to Mark Twain’s typewriter as an animal? Did I call it a hyena? I would not say that about Mark Twain’s typewriter.
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1243 2 2
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1243 0 1
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Miranda hugged Madam Mayweather as the girls, except Akane, gathered around them.
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1243 7 4
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Last night was full of little fists
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1243 0 0
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We transplant helix° splices and
shoot back to meet our former selves, zip the
scrolls, and save the world. Then you said spin
so I twisted my jumper over and
over in
endless folds like lips, like vaginas, like
seacreatures
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1243 4 3
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I'm writing our initials in black sharpie on the tunnel wall. There's already people who have come before me, hundreds of pairs of Qs and As and hearts in the middle, through a small hole in the brick I can hear the French accents, spinning through, a reminder that I am…
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1243 1 1
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I survived as a brave thought,
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1242 3 0
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So this was how it started. The next day Kia returned to sit with him a bit and the next day and the day after that until the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months. Eventually she found out his name was Saul, that he had no 'proper' job, was o
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1242 1 0
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He, an irregular chap,
Was known for his hat with a flap.
Had fleet feet and a very strong back.
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1242 10 9
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Your tunamelt cadence / Sank me to ocean floors
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1242 1 1
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I have a fascination with Dickens and London and this was inspired by my next novel.
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1242 0 0
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-Someone could have boosted this easy as pie, Ben said to himself.
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1242 4 2
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1242 4 4
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You go out on a night with no moon, when all the stars are flush in the sky, when all of everything, even you, is just a shadow moving softly, and I swear, you can hear it, if you listen hard enough. The music. It’s like it’s coming from under the ground.
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1242 19 12
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She's not a poet, but does she have to be? She comes to the reading to read the poems of her recently dead husband, for she made a vow: that she would read his work at an open mic. Now she is keeping her word. It's her way of keeping him alive or maybe it's his way of…
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1242 2 0
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Our ragged wits, ragged minds, after acting out all, imitating all honey-like tunes, air song, excellence of song, true flower of the world. So the sun has some of its honey wintered away, to bring it into contact with such a human voice as yours.
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1242 10 9
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We’re on The Worm. I dread the part where the train goes under the bay. I hold my breath until we safely emerge.
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