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Couch Potato Blues

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Whenever I get the urge to write a poem I try to talk myself out of it.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 28

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Ben watched Monique disappear into the first-class cabin. It didn’t seem likely that he would see her again after this flight.

Little Red Riding Hood, The Woodcutter, Grandma, and The Big Bad Wolf: Their Ongoing True Story

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Grim though it be Little Red Riding Hood and The Woodcutter, with his hewing axe, eviscerate and skin the Big Bad Wolf, thus rescuing sickly Grandma. Grandma’s a bit worse for the wear after her couple of hours in Big Bad’s overstuffed stomach. But she cl

the swan gliding before death

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When you awaken on the other side, you will see, I was like the swan gliding before death, and the animating power of her is willing and unavoidable. And you are itching, feeling an inextinguishable sexual desire, its nightmare ink burnt in your head, n

Promenade

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At the week's end, memories may come to you Of weekends same as those just gone before, That fade away from seeing as a tide's grey flue, That vanishes once travelled to a shifting shore: Still, hope you'll know a girl for an hour anew, One who fades…

Falling Rocks in Equal Doses

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Not sure I remember what's important, but I remember you. That's the whole problem I think. You're a drain where all my words wind up going down. All of them get lost inside of you. Eventually. And I'm left with nothing to say. Because all my words are…

My Plumber

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It sounds so good.

they came to explain the wind

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How we segued from exploring the wind to eating a nitwit sandwich.

Love in the Nick of Time

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a dance in the moonlight

If You Trace Even One of My Words

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with a finger I will (let you) know. If you mean even just one given look at the moon I will know that, too. If you peel off one lonely star and put that shining shell in your watch pocket for later or to skip across your sad …

The Mother Kidnappers

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We kidnap mothers of all sorts: old mothers, single mothers, young mothers (rarely), but we never do it for ransom. As a society we are adamantly opposed to the use of violence. Our mission is to remove mothers from environments they are not appreciated in, whether by their…

Condimental

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"Excuse me, ma'am? You wanted the mayonnaise on the side, right?"No one ever called her ma'am again.

The Right Kind of Magic

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1. During the outpouring of our newly discovered grief oh how we danced, electrical, into oblivion, maybe once, twice. It was toall to be expected, but not everything you feel is always real. After all the dust may settle, but it…

He Is Not Gone

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Since then I have come to feel his absence and feel that it might be time to try and write about this again. I used to spend a great deal of time managing things on facebook for a very large group with over 10,000 members. While some might not understand

Dongs

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[YOU BETTER BE READY FOR THIS!]

The poplar

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Sometimes we hurt ourselves, we scratch ourselves, we bleed — for a simple joy... All I wanted to do was to find the poplar again — the tree of my young arms, of my budding breasts. My fingers used to circle around its bold and vigorous waist, but in the…

The Sadness of Being On Line and (Bonus Extra!) The Driver

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He had to get over the short bridge

The Young Hate the Old

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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 …

Pets

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But in the dust bunny there was an equally relentless and sneaky foe. A brilliant General that silently marshaled its troops under tables and chairs, in obscure, shadowy corners, and along the unsuspecting flat surface of things.

The Jewelry of Yaks

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It’s too early in the morning to play the glockenspiel. I’ll just sit here and knit this tiger.

Fish Tales

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Billy's days were much like his yesterdays, with little hope the ones to come would be any different.

Love Letter From a Content Writer

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This was supposed to be a love letter written by a content writer, then it just got weird.

Delicate

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I'm not plagued with high levels. Must be all the raking I do. My pubes look as lush as my hair, so fire isn't even a concern. Maybe heat exhaustion is.This might be a poem,My oceans aren't small.

picture (im)perfect

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not

cleveland

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The girl went outside her door and stood and stared at the sky.there were clouds in the sky. the girl wore glasses with black framesthe girl stared at the sky some more and put on a bright yellow baseball hatshe sat in a white resin chairthe girl sat quietly and watched the…

Rain Song at Summer’s End

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Soft rain, small rain, steady rain— what the shrubs and tangled young red oak tree need—

Waterstones and The Fridge

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I try to slot into order the sequence of events: the book deal that appeared and then winked away like a dying star, the white gloves and the brick through Waterstone's window; my novel lying in the shop front in a bed of glass.

Beach Tale

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I should have worn shorts.

Genesis

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Nothing came of the dust.

1

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That evening, my friend and I were at a McDonalds'. It was late in the evening, and we got together after she sent me a text message she meant to send to someone else. I got a burger. She got fries.