1224 3 3
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the world’s biggest poser fags
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1224 7 3
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Sometimes you want to strike out at me. What is stopping you? There is no stopping you. You know I will not retaliate. Gone is all that I will be to you then.
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1224 6 5
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"Time is an ocean, but it ends at the shore. You may not see me tomorrow."--Bob DylanThey're writing poems, but not for me. Guess I'll write one for my own. For nobody that I know now. It's a pretty lonely world for someone who sings, not you, not with…
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1224 1 0
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I think of particles exploding, coming back together like some physics experiment I don’t know the name for. “Large Hadron Collider,” you say. But that’s not what I mean.
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1224 1 1
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The ride home after Basketball and a little beer; That's when the best poems happen. Poems pin-prick sharp Puncturing through dulled Senses while streetlamps pass Overhead. They find their way inside you But they don't stick. Poems left back somewhere On the…
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1224 2 2
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Couldn’t
we
just
do
a
quick
ie
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1223 2 0
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One Private View, four couples, not all of whom are adulterous.
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1223 3 3
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At the Rest Home for Silence
We are teenagers
At best
I have to admit
I fell asleep on the bus
On the way to the Rest Home
For Silence
And I woke up
To the noise
Coming from the
Overfilled silence
It's the overfilled silenc
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1223 10 2
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When I mentioned my visit to the museum during an A.A. meeting, I wanted to know whether the framers of The Big Book had been aware of the Nazi hospital sterilization and “euthanasia” programs.
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1223 1 2
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The Sunday sunset slowly simmers the sea.
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1223 3 1
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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
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1223 4 0
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Fire and ice undo me. I am born again, born again through the burning ice and biting flame. Listlessly floating cinder-like on lost cusps of wind that multiply with every with every single with every single breath. Spitfire grail and…
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1223 5 1
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He sneezed Hit the wrong buttonDidn't mean to kill him,but he didHeld onto me then, cryingand could not stopI feel so awful, he sobbedHe was asking for mercyAnd I meant to say, "yes,I will spare your life,"but I hit the kill buttoninsteadIt was an accidentHoney, it's just a…
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1223 3 2
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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
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1223 0 0
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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.
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1223 0 0
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Made sense then, should have written it down - But I fell back to sleep instead
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1223 7 7
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I live in a small fishing village where small people fish and others gossip or invent bizarre methods by which to irritate each other. During our weekly power cuts I go outside and cross the street, sitting on the pharmacy steps to watch myself not be at home in the…
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1222 9 4
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You slit your eyes and flick your cigarette in front of an oncoming car. I see how easily you could be that oncoming car.
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1222 4 0
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The coffee filter rustles like the Pages of your notebook, which Only tires you even more. Make your drink strong to Make up for the lack of resolve In your shoulders, and Your weak promises. The familiar sound of percolation And you reach the…
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1222 9 6
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Captain Nemo never died./
He cruises all the seven seas/
below the waves in Nautilus 2,
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1222 15 13
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1222 2 2
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the impression I had gotten of him was that he was fifty percent yuppie and fifty percent drug dealer from Marin.
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1222 1 1
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She was, they said, everyman’s armful;
Bedding down with her was most likely harmful.
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1222 0 0
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When the village slept, the men came knocking.
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1222 2 1
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I know what that coast was like, where you went. A coarse country filled with malodorous women that sang from the shores. Groups of nine stripped to the waist. Some with braids hanging down their back. Garden beauties. Visual porticos, with their floral
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1222 0 0
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Take a flying leap?Mother would never agreeSo away from the campground we sneakTo show the boy where I was a boySummer day shirtless with swimsuits onOne hundred degrees walking through the treesThe season early with winter runoffWater here still seventy feet deepHoping the…
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1222 5 4
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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...
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1222 1 0
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colors dancing on metric vectors
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1221 10 7
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1221 6 5
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If you want to be a writer, just write stuff.
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