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People speak of wordsmiths, as if they hammer text into shape; smelting down clunky prose, recasting from white-hot ink.
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"If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor."--Desmond Tutuand all the animals are migrating away from us. That can't be good. I can't breathe and the moon is on fire. I can't breathe and the ground is starting to rise…
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We had been on the way to the church when we found them. The handkerchief in my breast pocket was folded just so and I'd tried to recreate the perfect ribbon in Ashley's hair, …
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First was the end of the month Sunday morning picnic. Well, Not first - there was more. Something Before then. But, You looked different with wind in your Hair and Never the same again. The mud on your skirt matched my thoughts. You'd fallen, I'm sure, and I…
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What the fuck is that smell? Puke? Pine-Sol? Oh shit!Back seat of a cop car.Again?What is it this time?“Excuse me, officer? Where the fuck are my clothes?”
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He'd hug us against our wishes when we tried to get a better look at his cart, his odor a mix of sweet and sour and stink.
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My chin is half-eaten. My chest is gone. There is a rhythm to how each flame licks me. Like how you used to in the mornings before work. Before the coffee. Before the toaster. Before a rose clenched between your teeth and dancing.
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The past follows, battered, bruised, always behind
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Don’t shout. Be nice
Cheer up. Sit up
Straight. Don’t play
With your food. Elbows
Off the table. Watch
Your language. Use
Your napkin. Eat the
Crust
Stop fidgeting
Stop scratching
Close your mouth
When you chew
Remember to
Clea
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You don't deserve this poem and I don't deserve to write it. Whatever time we have left is way better spent sitting in a sunny garden with a good interesting book and with a beautiful golden delicious apple to bite into. But…
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Jim twisted the skinny trunk of his body in a fast, violent jerk just as the cop grabbed the buckle of his left Harley Davidson boot. When the boot flopped off, Jim found himself sitting upright, ready to jump up and run. But then he felt the baton lock down on his…
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“I am the Successor of Peter!” he said, supporting himself on the shepherd’s staff topped with a crucifix: “And you are trespassing on Holy Ground.” Baal said: “No ground is Holy for me.
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The city was spread before me in a pattern of dancing lights, alternately hidden and revealed by the blowing snow. At this distance, it was almost beautiful. Of course, the beauty was an illusion, obvious only at a distance. If I stood here until dawn, I’
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1052 0 0
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He lay on a wooden pallet, which he had placed inside a cardboard box that might have once held a refrigerator. Except the box was labeled “Robotic Endoscopic Surgery System.” His head was propped on a gym bag that contained all his possessions. Outside, it…
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feathered flightless freak of nature
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He repeated Honey, I miss you. He could be cruel. He let their son chase his kite for hours in the park while he sat between two tourists on their way out of the city just last week. He could hear her now, running a bath for herself, forgetting John's Apple Jacks before…
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The coals lose their glow.Sun kisses the back of my neck goodbye.Someone plays Boys of Summer one more time.The cooler tips... The tides go out...
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All Karin did was watch from the street. No movement. No reaction. She just watched.
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If you have writer’s block, it may be because your childhood wasn’t unhappy enough, but there’s nothing you can do about that now, is there?
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George didn’t move when Cindy punched him in the nose. He just stood
up and walked to the fridge, poured a glass of water and dropped a few
ice cubes into the glass. The ice cracked in the glass as he walked
back to the couch.
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She was having a laugh, but I didn't know what about. We were sitting in a big house that was on the top of a large incline. All these books were scattered around, and the walls and the kitchen, the doors and the quarter round and every other thing, was old and…
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She exists behind closed doors. An open field, on the edge of a moor. Her stare belies her hardened heart. Her soul in fragments. She has lost faith.Never happy. Never understanding. Never accepting her sadness. She walks every evening at sunset. She remembers her…
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1051 0 1
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Before you start reading this it is important that you understand that I know nothing about the evolution of horses or camels. I mean, I literally know zilch about which came first or if they are even part of the same family. In my head I imagine one of those charts…
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The Keds-stubbed grass, toy trucks without wheels, and Band-aids threaded in the sand… Most parenting is vigilance. Seconds ahead of its own sound, a passenger jet spears the heights not far above the treetops, …
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Then it gets worse—this reading of books—I go to the café and can only read a minimalist there, one crouton at a time.
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His throat had turned red after a few days of singing, and when he looked in the mirror he saw little sacs of white pus, like pimples, in the back of his mouth. “You got to pace yourself,” the big black woman who sang at the other beer garden told him.
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I watched her look at mewithout any eyes.She turned her head as wesat on the edge of the bed.Instead of eyesthere were hollow indentations of soft tissue,bulbs, and closed,tissue sown, pinched togetherwith pulls and zigzagslike crosshatching, where…
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