1183 4 4
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Through the lonely night
All the roads are breathing
While somewhere on the road
The American soul lies bleeding
The past is all in yellow
The future’s all in blue
While living in the moment
Has lost its rosy hue
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1183 5 3
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I came out of the Quick Stop and found her in the back seat of my ten-year-old Camry. I don’t know who she is, or why she chose my car. I do know she’s having a baby any minute now.
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1183 4 4
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The world hasn't ended. Your part in it is still ongoing. The going on world hasn't winked out. Every possibility is still out there. In there, out there, it doesn't matter where you are. The here and now claims you for its only tribe. They only want someone to tell them…
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1183 3 2
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He doesn't tell her that he is married, and that his five year old daughter who is living at your house has a mother back in that same city
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1183 0 2
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There's a whole pack of us, men minted from hot brass and thumbtacks.
Too tough for sensibility's sake.
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1183 5 1
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"I love you.”“Night.”Back at the screen door she answers “What?” I stand under her nose and say “Box is out of juice.” Inside she sits me on the black and white polka-dotted sofa we make love around here and there.…
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1183 2 0
|
How we segued from exploring the wind to eating a nitwit sandwich.
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1183 0 0
|
Willa knows why Jimmy reached for the thirty ought six
Chambered a round
With three more clinking in his pants pocket
And took to the roof
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1182 2 1
|
There it it again, that noise. That low hum that I know so well now, spinning, gaining momentum in my head, like a cyclist in a velodrome, until its steadiness and roundness becomes sharp, painful, cutting like glass.
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1182 0 0
|
His senses were heightened. The scratching on the table with his finger nails, intense nervousness, the noise magnified every second, the ball point pen was piercing into his sweaty palm.
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1182 3 2
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Palinode: A poem written to retract something said in a prior poem.
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1182 3 1
|
He had to
get over
the short bridge
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1182 5 5
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I was supposed to write a history of the old world and expose the selfish ones who use their best kept love for evil against the good little witches of childhood, but it made no sense to me to go after them in that obvious a way. They…
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1182 8 3
|
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1182 2 0
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Fabulous birds perched nearby, where we were. In their memory there goes the little god, original, in the midst of it all, happiness like anything near the river-mouth. Letting yourself dabble in the femaleness of it. In the lower world or on the playin
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1182 12 6
|
You
sawed off my wings then
Asked
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1182 1 1
|
Benjamin did everything by the clock. He ate when the little hand pointed to five and the big hand pointed to six. He danced when the little hand pointed to three and the big hand pointed to seven. He slept when they both hit twelve.To be more precise, he did everything…
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1181 16 10
|
My first winter in Massachusetts feels medieval: cold, dark, and endless.
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1181 0 0
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When I was 14 I accidentally heard a woman saying behind my back
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1181 0 0
|
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1181 14 5
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The darkness isn’t evil but invisible/
in the otherwise excellent light of day
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1181 0 0
|
dove from the trenches, double-check
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1181 13 9
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1181 9 4
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Hilda Raz lost a daughter. Her son gained a persona, backed by biological components. I was impressed by his male-pattern baldness. A biological genius. And yet, I was reduced and in the elevator mentioned crying about it.
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1181 2 3
|
Our friend, M. Dieu-Juste partnered in a used car business with a Vietnamese mechanic, Mr. Tran. Cars however, were not their only venture.
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1181 4 3
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The old hate the young. Robe exposed monks do not Hate mosquitoes. It is one. It is one hand. It is on. Mountains don't hate sky. The rich hate the poor. The poor hate the rich. The parade of scholars hate the …
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1181 2 0
|
high school football players who'd been hit wrong and instantly become quadriplegics
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1181 2 0
|
Loss and awakening are irrevocable. Love and grief are one.
|
1180 1 1
|
I held the steam and scrubbed it. How do you do that? asked Willy. How do you scrub steam? It is so, you know, diaphanous. I said to Willy, because Willy was a good man and listened with both ears, we adapt to the heart's convulsions. I send my grammar to a…
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1180 0 0
|
I sat in the kitchen with the phone in my hand. The phone had just stopped ringing. When it rang, its screen lit up with the face of the caller. It vibrated and played a tune called "Dusk 2 Dawn." Now the kitchen was silent.
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