1933 12 8
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I write in the morning when the world is bendy.
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1932 14 9
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(I woke once from a bad dream to throw them from the drawer, but my hands were so clammy, the coins stuck to my hand! I had to scrape them off my palm on the edge of the table.)
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1932 37 25
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Come home, my love, and live.
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1932 18 13
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Instead of julienning the fava beans you could, instead, slip your linen shirt off your pink shoulders and hang it on a tree branch like a white flag yelling “I don’t want to fight anymore, goddamit, this aftenoon is beautiful.”
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1932 15 10
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Of only there were more like you,
I wouldn't be changing careers.
And my drawings would still be in magazines,
instead of on strange people's rears.
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1932 2 0
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The snake glides unhurriedly through the garden one warm July afternoon looking for a schmoose. Or barring such pleasant daytime passage, a shady snoozing spot. He twines himself about the gravid apple tree’s trunk caduceus-like, slithering his handsom
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1931 8 2
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"Michael has had no drink, no cigarette, no illicit drug and very little illicit sex since September 14, 1989."
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1931 28 19
|
Mullah Omar was quoted as saying that “America will fall to the ground.” The extinction of America will come about if God is willing.
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1931 13 7
|
It will be a beautiful, luminous, rollicking, transcendent book, the manuscript smudged with tomato sauce and tears.
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1930 36 21
|
The young boy picks up a coin that has rolled to his feet. It is warm, too warm considering the cold air streaming around him.
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1929 1 1
|
i beat myself back into the littlon fish door, the algae sealing strip connecting as it does. Eons ago, i fell, and andy and i met with hands of crab and lobster in an eleborate room benaeth here, but I know very well, i am not him
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1929 14 7
|
a question that (never) left
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1929 1 1
|
Light was always fucking with you in LA, especially in the afternoon where it possessed a golden hue that could knock you over if you weren’t careful. Its beauty reminded you of what you lacked.
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1928 28 20
|
It's so nice
to be under something else's power
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1928 10 5
|
Sands In Time by Julie Noble As surreptitious as the crab creeping sideways under your patient observation, the sun has inched its way round the sky, echoing exactly the rugged curve of the Bay, and is now preparing itself for the evening slide. In its rich,…
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1928 8 3
|
Was I a dreamer? Was I asking for too much?
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1928 35 14
|
AFTER DINNER Another cycle gone, wasted. She stares into her bowl of full-fat ice cream (just half a cup a day, every day, for fertility). Beside her sits her husband, building a sundae. When he's done she reaches over, picks the cherry off the top, and hurls it into the…
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1927 8 5
|
You may gather from me
the spring of my youth
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1927 9 6
|
Six kinds of crazy, he said. That told me everything. It told me enough.
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1926 17 14
|
The first time I see her, she is slouched in a tire swing, pushing off with one foot and dragging the other beneath a dying pecan tree that probably hasn't made a nut in 20 years.
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1925 10 6
|
Grief is to have given freely too unfreely. Grief is to have given one year too many. Wicked is to have wanted it to be given away that way. Wicked is to Sam as duty is to Mother. Sam’s wife is to his friend’s wife as one Mercedes to another.
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1925 6 8
|
Noon sun, like a restless master
on my back
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1925 1 1
|
The orange sky melts away.
Shadows fall and twist in the wind. I’m on patrol with three of my buds, there to retrieve the body of a fallen comrade, Bill’s body, we’re told. They got him, used him, then dumped his body in a ditch and said, “He
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1922 11 9
|
"Did you see that?!" exclaimed Judy jerking suddenly from her weathered Adirondack chair.
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1922 20 8
|
There's a special block in the city, nestled between Mutant Town and Trump Towers.
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1922 0 0
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The next day, John's kneecaps looked like Tennessee Pride Real Country Sausage. The bandage on his head kept coming loose, having to be tucked in, and he was suffering the Stone Mountain of hangovers.
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1921 25 21
|
I found the knife in a fishing box in the closet. The box was made out of varnished wood. My father’s father had made it.
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1921 22 13
|
Pretty boy looks over at me and grins, got a smoke?
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1921 3 2
|
Homegirl wanted someone to love her so much they could suicide together.
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1921 4 4
|
Fifi is one piece of work, from the Ann Coulter Tits-And-Ass Rattlesnake School Of Broadcasting Venom And Bullshit Like Goebbels...
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