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[Lights up on CLAUDE. He's holding a letter, standing.]CLAUDE: Dear sir, We regret to inform you That your (that place with cream walls and dog hair…
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and springs its ready-made claws into action and takes a soppy chance that things will probably go its feline way today. But you, my friend, must you always throw the testing switch to high voltage on me? Yeah I get that the history teachers…
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[...] A crimson post-it note/ illustrates the squiggle of a resting pulse wavering/
near the broken pencil leads and whorls of/soft wood which may be classed as evidence.
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All I ask is that the guy has teeth and an income. More important are the teeth because he can always get a job, but he can’t un-rot the teeth he’s lost to meth.
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I scrambled back a bit and found my feet after untangling them from my trekking poles. Really should have dropped those when this all started. The bear lunged at me with his teeth and I just barely dodged to the left to avoid getting something bitten of
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So what happensTo the VFWIn a global economyAnd the monumentsErected in reverenceAfter the boysWho became menCame back homeTo be fathersThen grandfathersGreat-grandfathersAnd start to fall awayAs the days creep byThat petty paceOf politics as usualFamily DiasporasAnd maybe…
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Last night I decided to go through my bag of wind and sort things out. I'm a hoarder, and wind is no exception. I collect winds. I found two siroccos, five simooms, three foehns, eight Chinooks, ninety gales, thirty zephyrs, two nor'westers, a monsoon, a…
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an almost perfectly symmetrical/
Cheshire grin of a moon tonight/
above the iced roof of the house
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No one wanted to bear witness
to this grand emasculation
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Some corners of the world seem to be consigned to an eternal hell of never-ending strife. The Middle East; Northern Ireland; the faculty lounge at Oxford University.
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The butterscotch on that painting makes me want to lick the canvas.
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Is it my imagination, or is her chair afraid of her?
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we hover black as carrion birds with a glut empty need seems to me she's fell as thee and knows exactly where we posture anxiously spitting falsehoods on cue twittering like snipes cause there's nothing left to do she might have spent her whole life just
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Marcia
Get a load of
This
I got two pictures
Of food
Of food
Marcia
You're gonna
Love it
Look at this
I got one
Of just the salt and
Pepper shaker
God
You're gonna
Love this
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Stone-gathering became my job
by default. Digging the foundation, trundling the loaded wheelbarrow away from the site, yours.
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Now that you can go to a body shop and get nearly any mod you can imagine printed and attached in about an hour, every cracker-ass redneck is sporting a twelve-point rack...
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On this day, a blinding sky
holds ribbed reams of clouds,
staccato against staggering blue.
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She called for land usage to fulfill a social function, to provide an affordable and sustainable way of life for all.
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#whateverhappenedto #beforesex #whateverhappenedto #duringsex #whateverhappenedto #aftersex #nevertrust[written in August 2009]
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before five/glancing down Academy Street/sloping west to where the tracks crossed/twisted tangled metal on wheels.
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“What’s this? What’s this? What’s this?” said Pablo moving from canvas to canvas. He was stunned.
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Border town meant one thing; we were caught up real good in the middle of something preternaturally dangerous; and understanding was at the very least a hundred miles or so away in either direction. All I…
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Threads of sadness in the hands, in the touch
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the moon tops the monolith
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Henry recognized the shoes. “There’s a little vampire came in with those on, but I last saw her over by the juice bar.” He couldn’t be bothered with Arthur’s “sections.” The club wasn’t that big that it had to be defined by sections.
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The Black night reached under his shiny silk jacket
And touched the steamy leather of his holster.
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Before Uncle Max died of a heart attack, he had some words of advice for his only nephew and godson. Upon his death, as instructed, a package in brown paper arrived at Jeffery Glimson’s house on a warm June afternoon.
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