933 0 0
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The only magazine Auden subscribed to was Scientific American, a publication I had previously scorned as the trade journal of pre-med students and Nobel Prize winners.
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933 4 2
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The Pope is too busy shopping for clothes to control your brain.
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933 14 9
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the Blue Ridge Mountains were entangled in their usual mist, but the early morning sky looked good
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933 0 0
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This is the keeper's pattern. Each time he continues his search, he reaches out through his gaze for an invisible line, wishing to touch it if only with his eyes. Each time he feels himself drawing near quiet panic sets in, eyes downcast until the threat
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933 2 0
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We used to find ourselves watching a World War II documentary, but from the periphery of our vision; because our tongues would be swishing against each other, and we’d be breathing each other’s wind; and we wouldn’t be as in to it as we used to but we wou
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933 2 0
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I won't ever forget the image of my father, behind the wheel of the Cadillac he so loved. Even as a ten year old, and more as an adult, I could never figure out why he loved that car as much as he did. I must explain that he was really my step father,…
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933 0 0
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I'm the vessel that'll sniff out the wharf's of old,they call me bold for bounding seas,they whispers rumors of my unstable ease,what's a life without vanishing into the falling pink fold,Ululating tides spray brisk bounties of water on board,squabs with new wings…
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933 3 0
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Out the window, the butterflyhad escaped,beyond my perception and maybe into someone else's.The little boy with the kite stared back,wound his string,and ended his afternoon.
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933 7 5
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The two boys walked the long dock to the edge of bay,like scrappy lobsters pointing toward the waves,"The cockroaches of the sea,"his father said,It was the old country"Only prisoners were fed lobster.They stayed in the dampholes."He thought the sea ebbed and flowed like a…
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933 1 1
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Forgetting fractures her body into a vast flower of fragments
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933 4 2
|
His small hands grew unimaginable vitality as he pushed and heaved against the strength of the ocean and it's depths and it's ruthlessness.
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932 3 0
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I wanted only to be still, to become a rustle for a moment of papery fall leaves sighing past one another on their way to the funeral pyre in the front lawn, sweetly fragrant with the scent of death and inevitable decline, fearless in their annihilation, incandescent…
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932 4 3
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And what is it I’m supposed to do
With all this unsolicited advice?
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932 8 5
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I felt that love could
not be paid for or else could
never be paid for enough.
|
932 0 0
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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
|
932 4 0
|
Once we got to my house, Lynda had everything drinkable in the house open and in everybody's hands before I knew it. She tossed down a bottle of my father's beer, then started on a bottle of whiskey that was open. She took a straight mouthful and offe
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932 5 5
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She’s an old soul who was
scattered to the winds
like a thousand butterflies
and a moth
She has no center
and flits from event to event
and can’t miss out on
a thing, because crikey,
what if she missed something
important?
And the m
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932 4 2
|
At the company luncheon, the dessert course came first. The servers were tense and unresponsive and we knew something was off. After the pudding or mousse came an undressed salad. Several minutes later came dressings — balsamic, ranch — with ladles.…
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932 0 0
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It comes to him in the night. When he's lying there, staring at the ceiling. The shadows dance on the white paint, forming into monsters that get you when you sleep. The moon hangs low in the sky, dancing with the stars in a ballet that lost all movement
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I am not
a Road Scholar,
ladies & gentlemen,
though I’ve been
On the Road
more than once.
Do not mistake me
for a bum.
I am not a hobo,
homeless or otherwise,
in this life
or any other,
I am not a bum,
I insist.
But I d
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932 16 8
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I'm panicking trying to think of the next line in this poem
|
932 0 0
|
Uproot everything, a muddy hole when done
|
932 10 5
|
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931 8 8
|
The train station offers a pleasant atmosphere, though it exists as an in between place. People only come here to go somewhere else.
|
931 14 8
|
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…
|
931 2 0
|
when the jewels weren't on his head; they were in his eyes.
|
931 0 0
|
My usual angel fell from the ceiling and onto the couch.
|
931 2 1
|
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931 8 4
|
Back then he raced, grinding gears and skimming the edges of death.
|
931 3 1
|
Watching himself dissolve comes with no sense of meaning. It is simply what it is. He finds that curious.
|