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gravelortian part 21

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Happy is a look we are trying to wear better

All The World's Cold

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An officer appeared and told us that we were already dead. We were already ghosts. As soon as you realize this, there is nothing to fear.

passing in, passing out

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I hate turnstiles and revolving doors

The Gift

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There is no need to worry about art. Art in its ideal forms stays safe. Real art resists being the object of attention. It directs your gaze, and it swings in you forever.

a type of lullabye

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the rain on the windowhammers out a symphonyfor ninety Underwoodsand oh what a savage performanceit does take to soothe this beast

Old Love Passes By Like a Landscape

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from a moving train. The lost ball inthe tall grass still wants for no one. AndI'm suposed to pretend? You got yoursmile from something, not someone. But it took all your long hair in the process. You've been looking for the one true grace, the ultimate…

Surf Song

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Morning. A hot bright sun shines down on the cool dark depths of the deep blue sea.

The Seagulls at the Parking Lot

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Turningturning the pale grey spot.She sits in her carin the parking lotwith the radio onleaning back picking a thin piece of skin from her finger.Turningturningthe seagulls move aroundand aroundabove the asphaltas though it was the wave,with…

Shine

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not sure why - we rise

On Perfect Marble

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So the subtle shadow settles onto perfect marble on the floor of the ocean when the sunlight blooms over space and time but only in the near future as it has always been

In the Month of Halloween

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Did you ever have a morning when you just did not want to wake up? Sleep can be marvelous, but dreams not so much. If you believe, here is a tale. "She was awakened by the mushing of her pillow around where her head lay squarely on it. It was not violent,

Europa Sonnets (A work in progress 1-4)

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1. So this is how the Western world ends, with a shrug:Great lanes extinguished of the lamps that yearned Once for tomorrows turnstiled as agog We watch you, Paris, long rejected, burned- If without flame from exiled …

Memories of the Beach

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The smell of Coppertone Suntan Lotion always brings back memories of the beach. I remember you rubbing it on my stomach and you kept moving lower and lower. I had on a bikini bottom (very daring) and you rubbed your finger all along the rim of it just a

For Seven Days

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The fluorescents above a constant hum. A hymn. The child lay on the bed as the parents worriedly hovered. Fretted and dreaded. Tubes and wires led from the broken body to machines and computers that fed and cataloged every minute detail occurring in the collapsing system.…

the musk and the drama

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Shame must search the soul, broken, original, with its primitive juices stirred. Moved until now only by the musk, only the stroll you lived with, the worry, the sorrow, the drama – may I never conceal or recover from it! Yes, I might beg or steal the

Liberation, 2

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It was Phil Collins on MTV, “In the Air Tonight,” that helped cement it for me. It was the beginning of the end of my marriage. Well, not exactly the true beginning of the end. You would have to go pretty far back, honestly, to find the true root of it

holy the valley

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Apparently we must endure them forever, the gods. My willingness to live among them, and love, with their high-pitched voices. To endure or be endured equally, each one of the Fates, each one of the high hearers stammering out the certainty of their lov

In Which My Girl Hits Me With Various Big-Ticket Appliances

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My girl hit me with an ice cream freezer. She did it ‘cause she said she didn't want me to tease her.

The Year of the Horse

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“She's the year of the horse,” Metri said as he peeled his dirty head from the bed, his hair was as matted as a racoon tale. It was as wild as a wild animal and smelled like body odor with a hint of blood. He slid his scabbed hands up to his chest as if to…

The Cuervo Gold and Clorox Blues

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I try to keep myself from weeping. We are all actors in a bad dream, that doesn’t go away in the morning

I Said God Damn

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the space between two antelopes is a canyon,

Writing Poems

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We bring words together and set them up on blind dates. Watch them build a history together, get married and fight together. Make offspring syllables cradled warm in cribs of punctuation. Phonemes squeezed into existence by two parenthesis. Words…

Runt Of the Litter

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I remember so many things … do you remember who I am yet? I attached pictures to jog your memory, including the house on Euclid where I lived. That’s my high school graduation photo. I was wearing my hair short that year, and blonde and natural,

Enè Ioh

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Hello, I am Enè Ioh, I have come to to tell you a story that takes place within the place. I start at the place; I go to the place. Here we are, at the place. I am now at the place. I know what I say is of no consequence and I will be killed for it. It means so…

Thanks for the Unsolicited Advice

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And what is it I’m supposed to do With all this unsolicited advice?

I will miss you

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I will miss you, sure, let it be known. The memory, and the dream, both. That familiar smell of Old Spice when someone wearing it comes near. And the smell of Coppertone Suntan Lotion on the beaches of our youth in Chicago. And the pressure of your fing

The Cat Beneath the Off Ramp

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Like Smart’s cat Jeoffrey, he’s a mixture of gravity and waggery.

dresses on a rat

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I heard about you in advance. You were not going into a party looking for dresses on a rat. Nor shades of blue rubber, nor symbols of hot purity. I knew what you were after, so I put myself in front of you. You could not mistake me for anything other th

porcelain

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And then, like all those nights before, she just fell asleep seducing me.

Broward County Love Song (flaxen from the sun)

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If the little buildings had hair the hair was as if sleeked back some and also flaxen from the sun. Men walked past there and of course women also all in the requisite wear of the world. We dashed felt pens on curb-sides writing our names in the world and way in behind…