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London Calling

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Bloomsbury crowd

Gauntlet

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They bury their own.

Bright Red Leaf

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Little scoundrel Name of leaf, No one knows He's a thief. The shadows stretch, The birds fly south, And summer's a word Of ash in the mouth When all of a sudden The colors are gone But for a red…

Tomorrow

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On the febrile edge

Maybe Just One More Then

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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…

Lift

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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…

Jim

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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…

WE SHOULDN'T HAVE BOUGHT THE FIREWORKS

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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.

Why Don't You Just Take Off Your Top

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You were there at the beginning almost, when I wanted to write about the dead spider I smashed on my bedroom wall, comparing it to the blue/grey smoke of the blown-off fireworks drifting overhead.

People's Park at Night

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“You got a cigarette, man?” “Hey, mister, you got a cigarette?” “You got a cigarette, mister?” “Hey, mister, you listening to me? You got any spare change?” The voice was coming from the…

Lapses

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The body does what a body must

Handiwork

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People speak of wordsmiths, as if they hammer text into shape; smelting down clunky prose, recasting from white-hot ink.

birdbrain

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feathered flightless freak of nature

Right Here on Our Stage...Tonight

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When Madeline became beset with a malady diagnosed as Harlequin's Syndrome she had to learn to overlook the muffled, but audible, guffaws about her excessive perspiration and slightly stooped posture on stage. She was a trooper and said she knew they came from those who…

Speculation on the Quantum Mechanism of Death

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With whatever else physicists may learn . . . perhaps they will begin to see that the connections between the physical world and non-physical domains of existence have an explanatory power which has only barely been considered.

Beauty Comes Trailing After Us

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hat

A New Woman

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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.

Brand

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Nobody buying...

The After

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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…

Arcana Magi Zero Arc 2 - c.5

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Alysia saw her reflection in Suzaku’s eyes. There was an empty face looking back.

hump daze

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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…

Lies And Bullshit

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You sit brooding at the barOn a Friday nightOn the patio on a Friday nightAnd people try to figure you outI thinkAnd I am so quite andSo tired Too tired to even drive homeDrainedI just need that drink to feel betterAnd I stare off in a hazeWhats wrong?I don't…

Playground

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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, …

MOMENT

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It was a cruel question, coming on breath that stank of the grave.

#1

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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.

Writer's Block? Get Nacreous!

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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?

My Darling Dead Ones

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Do you remember?

When Do We Breathe?

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You deserve air.

L.A. Blonde

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Then there was Marsha, the blonde bombshell, at Irvine, who slept over one night only. As in the original one night stand, your standard L.A. blonde beach-girl bombshell ex-cheerleader tear your heart out and spit it as far as she could. Wrench your bal

Skins of my past

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The past follows, battered, bruised, always behind