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Neatly Creased Newspapers

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A thin line separated her lips, like something sketched with a pencil.

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.6 - c.2

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Watching the surroundings, the school proceeded on with no threat in sight. The Circle of Four entered inside Azure’s classroom where she sat next to a window.

Bully of the Town

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The woman was dancing, holding her bottle in the air as she slowly turned around, blocking the way to the exit. “I asked Miss Pansy Blossom if she would wing a reel,” she sang.

The Judge's Wife Part 7

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—A little blood puts some life into the work, said the old artisan smiling.

Last Cricket

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The weather, mid-sixties now, will take its toll on this singular voice.

Departures

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Fingers scrabble idly at pocket seams, forage between teeth, grasp for tepid cups, patter a drumbeat on knees.

Bitter About Pay, Poet Laureate Strikes Catty Tone

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Duffy struck an adversarial tone from the outset, offering up a first poem about improper expenses submitted by members of Parliament that ruffled feathers across party lines.

It Began With The Waffles

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It began with the waffles, well first there were the potholders, but really the problem was the waffles. I don't even think she knew she was making waffles; much less that she had lost her potholders in the trash can the day before. But nonetheless the real issue here was…

Breaking And Entering

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Do you know what it is to crave something? Of course you do. But this was different. This was beyond craving.

Abby

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The music is too loud in here and it's hurting my ears. I know some of the words to the songs because my older sister listens to the same stuff when she's in her bedroom and is playing her iPod and my dad yells at her to turn that crap down. I like my dad. He calls me…

Pessoa

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Pessoa, wake up, I need your help!I want to be the universe, I need to be the universe. And somehow be no-one at all. I want to expand and be everything and not be tragically held by One. But I need your help, old man, because my words are not enough to make me forget that…

I Must Want it. No, I Must Need It.

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She rubs her head into mine...

The Days, the Weeks

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Next morning the thought crosses my mind of snapping Mom’s neck, making sure she’s dead, and then running down to the sea to drown myself.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 69

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The Gringovitch family was gathered in the lobby of the hotel. The boys sat on the floor using their packs as back supports. Francesca Gringovitch sat on a chair with the remaining luggage in front of her.

This Bud’s For You

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I suspect I’ll make the right decision.

The Cheerleader

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He sat behind her in Honors English, each day studying everything about her.......

The Chair

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His thoughts drifted to when he was a kid, to the monthly trip to the barber.

Turning Heads

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Crows cawed, kvetched.

Improvisation on a few lines by Mark Strand

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I am tripping on poetry. Purple ink drips from my eyes like ergot of rye.

SUNRISE

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There is a false dawn, when night still holds sway, but tempered with promise; anticipation.

The Duke of Travel

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...he had that same grin, better than a racy French picture.

Briefing

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Petty minds think arithmetic thoughts/ in units of dollars and cents// and strive to quantify the world

the wall

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Looking at an image of a graffiti on a wall on our computer screen we ask ourselves: what is the image's main graffiti-like property? We might answer: its location. But that is a contextual and political interpretation. There's nothing in that answer which addresses the…

Shuffle

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Something is clearly wrong with them and we're supposed to socialize them.

My Stigmata

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“Don’t you think you should tie a tourniquet or something?” she asked as I bled profusely from the points where Jesus was wounded during his crucifixion.

How to Lose Control of Your Pencil

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Real hands

Noir in cadence

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...hup hup hup...

Fibers(next:our world without ice caps/yipes!)

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The light they love to hate so much is always pulsating within each life; the unbelievable color sword of what happens next when any two people find each other in their hearts and all pretense is somehow gone, for at…

Yearning

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He’d've been up there belting out the hymns then bickering with the vicar after.

Elevator Music

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Of course, no one can control what goes on in an elevator.