1334 1 0
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Me leaving is not the confirmation of all your fears. It is not. It's because of them.
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1334 2 1
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Tonight’s concert was called Desert.
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1334 9 7
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I COULD always sleep. Go "home" now and sleep. My body and my fetus—who complain of this torture—would appreciate sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have something to do that is not sleep. I have to try to wake.
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1333 5 3
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And there on the street
Were a bunch of frantic pigeons
Picking over some discarded
Chicken bones
I mean they were really
Going to town on them
You know, frantic
Like there was no tomorrow
And then I saw it
A real sign of progress
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1333 2 3
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I, Seer of the Stars, Cartographer of the Cosmos, / measure my mass, and to whom do I owe this woe...
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1333 2 2
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Defenestration - the act of throwing someone out of a window.
I went to Prague recently to visit my family’s castle, which is called Krivoklat. I’m not even going to attempt to explain to you how to pronounce that. It’s outside Prague, about an hour t
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1333 3 1
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There is something preposterous /
about existing in a universe so vast: /
Such a big playground for such tiny children, /
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1333 2 2
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I keep the book when the lessons are done, go through the pages Momma skipped over...
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1333 5 4
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I suspect I’ll make the right decision.
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1333 4 0
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We all wish to partake in great events.
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1333 4 3
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the ones that have seen
the other seasons,
let them set up the track
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1333 0 0
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“Honorable condominium association members,” the leader begins. “I apologize for not having a PowerPoint slide show tonight, but me and my muchachos travel light.”
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1333 1 0
|
Her questions apparently had their desired effect.
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1332 2 2
|
There it was
One abandoned high heel shoe on the sidewalk
Could have been
Some kind of robbery
Though
Maybe it was just
The beginning of the
Walk of shame
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1332 2 0
|
A minute later, a shadow appeared across the left-hand page of the book.
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1332 7 4
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—A little blood puts some life into the work, said the old artisan smiling.
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1332 2 1
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There’s an account of roasting inward, holding myself like a rock inflamed, my inward joy rotting my veins. How was I supposed to go on loving anything after you? Like a pigeon hated at home, awaiting your passionate kisses? Knowing how your classical k
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1332 2 2
|
The Church of Chimera, which has tentacles in most cities, would like you to accept the existence of MEGACROCODOG, invisible possessor of the largest penis imaginable. You are promised an afterlife of bliss, as long as you pray to MEGACROCODOG and say his penis is the…
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1332 5 2
|
The bathroom had exposed rusty pipework, A minty lemonade smell, Ice in the urinal, And a wall of stone-cold mirror. She put some lipstick on, but it looked fake under the lint-covered bulb dangling overhead. She wiped off the lipstick but…
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1332 0 0
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Last time I saw the American Dream was Tuesday, down at the Unemployment Office. He was looking pretty worn out, as if being unemployed for over a year was finally getting to him.
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1332 19 9
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1332 5 3
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In the neon light and barroom shadows,
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1332 0 0
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He met her at midnight just off the plane and they sized each other with silent growing awareness that no matter what might transpire in distant tomorrows, each served here now as passports to magic and lands far away. On the…
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1332 3 3
|
This world is always at least as strange as it seems, but usually far more strange, so many non-repeatable phenomena . . . .
|
1332 1 1
|
He’d've been up there belting out the hymns then bickering with the vicar after.
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1332 2 1
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A meaningful conversation Subdued the huge Toys “R” Us question mark Standing sun-bleached and sprinkler-dirtied In our flowerbed On the patio Explode your fanny pack, A clinking most dangerous The Mysterious: Its …
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1332 10 2
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she lays there
wrapped in his baseball sheets
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1332 12 6
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it's all a bit like the quiet steam
drifting to nowhere off my microwaved
hot coffee in the sunflower mug
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1332 29 18
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It was in the last expulsion/explosion (theories differ) that we became OneWith. Tsunami. Seism. Zud. All matter cast out outcast came back like a gangster on crack. What did it think it was? Who do we think we are? It thinks we think it thinks…
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1331 0 0
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Detective-Sergeant Claude Mulvihill sat in his squad car, which was parked on 54th Street in front of Bright Star Recording Studios. He had just finished the second of two jelly donuts and was spiking his coffee with three packets of sugar.
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