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Mamba

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How does Bandie feel about snakes? This is my thought. What good is a serpent without venom?

M Box

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I do that now. And I shiver. My mom's eyes don't seem to have any expression. They look lifeless. Her eyes look... dead. Stop it, Alison, I tell myself. You're being stupid.

Omens

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The rain falls soft after a hard weekend.

A Girl You Couldn't Hurt

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“You take the woman, you get her records,” Dean said, and he didn't seem the least bit troubled by the Streisand album.

Son

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Trenches coated with man-gruel laced the earth.

Man

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There’s not enough time because we come back to the things we never learn and forget them.

Knots

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She sees her first husband on the bathroom floor, ingrained in the wood.

Nineteen in '72

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bursting girl there is no moon

The Oxymoronic Life of a Nearly Dead Woman

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I could have a minor stroke.

21

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The coach told the player, number 21, to stand in front of the net in order to distract the opposing team's goaltender and to block the view, to 'screen' him as it were. 21 did so, and did it well. There were defensemen that gave him much trouble by hitting his legs and…

black crescent curved under

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I hope my blonde down still beats in your heart, and the black crescent curved under, you will remember, and I would move toward your window where my own heart lay in a dish, with the thick valley lifting. Remember, I crossed and uncrossed my legs f

Now

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I'm looking for the perfect/passage, a safe, sound/jettison to now.

Mr. Townsend Wakes Up

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Mr. Townsend is a normal guy. He's been on auto pilot a while. When he finally snaps out of it, he's surprised at what he finds.

The Third Leading Cause

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I leave the 29 to go after the 1

Coal Mine Pickle Jar

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I can’t move - I try to move my arms - I try to move my legs - If I can scream then that will wake me up - I scream

Release My Pajamas

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And then I heard “Yea, for I have seen the Father The Son, and the Holy Toast” Okay now, something up was weird

Skinburn

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I wrinkled my face up in the glare and warmth of the sun. I baked easy in the hovering heat and my spot-speckled skin ate up the rays and swallowed deeply.

Pops

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My father is the kind of man to shout at you / just because you took the wrong road / at least the road that he’s not used to...

Ben Clarone: Prologue Part 3

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The urban-abused Chevy looked older than its seven years.

I HEART INTERNET

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What can I say about the Internet It's one of the best inventions since the TV set It's a place you can do research and shop A place where you can sell everything from shoes to stock You can go to rooms and chat And meet some nice people or some that seem…

Writing Prompts

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If you want to be a writer, just write stuff.

Her Sunday Story

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She turned on the television. The newscaster was her husband. She changed the channel. Her husband interviewing her husband. She changed the channel. A baseball game. Her husband pitched to her husband who popped a fly ball which was caught by her husband

Jam Sessions with Wannabe Rock Stars

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Hey Sledge! Yo. Did you know Socrates hated the idea of writing thoughts down? He said it weakened the memory…made us lazy. Say wha? That's why he never wrote a book. The only way we know about him is through his student Plato's writing. St

Little Shop of Altered Time

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“Time is inalterable. We can only offer an altered perception of time. And what better way to do that than by offering altered timepieces?

Orbital Mechanics/ National Poetry Month 2014/ 30 poems

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Captain Nemo never died./ He cruises all the seven seas/ below the waves in Nautilus 2,

Tethered

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Handsome are the houses,effigies in synthetic stucco: prosperity divinedbehind parted walls. Behold the ersatz simplicityof the residential subdivision, contrived construction inline and line and line. …

The Widow

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When the village slept, the men came knocking.

The Tragically Short Life of the American Barfly

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That is then and the devil reigns in the here and now. Tonight I am the barfly and tomorrow I die.

Stop Sign

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Made sense then, should have written it down - But I fell back to sleep instead

BORDER JUSTICE

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CHAPTER ONE About nine-thirty P.M. on Friday night, Mary Fowler pushed her grocery cart through the double sliding glass doors. It was three weeks before Christmas. The sun had set and the temperature had begun to cool rapidly in…