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What I have doneOh what I have becomeWhat happened to all I thought I had known?This will not standMy mind becoming rottenThe things I thought were important to meHave all become forgottenWashing my convictions in cheap alcoholFeeding my misery with one kind, then allMy…
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Hi fellow writersThis is a proposed start of novel.Protagonist is Flor "the urchin"her grandfather, whom she hated when he was alive (and vice versa) is seeing her life from the void, he has died.Please offer any feedback or thoughts you may have, all are appreciated.Here…
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Uber Rich
Spongecake
Caca Mimi and the Autre Merdes
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He was the first football hero the town had ever known;
so fast, he ran rings around teams from other towns.
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He decided to avoid startling her from the rear, which he recalled vaguely was a good strategy with any female.
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i sat in the car for a while
/ even after i arrived at the house
/ facing the garden with my headlights on
/ casting on it a dreary sort of fantasy
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You had to put up with
Sunday drivers
You had to love children
All children, all of them!
This is what it took to be God
It wasn’t fun
You had to be patient, sometimes
You had to pretend to look the other way
You needed to lose your he
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He felt sick at heart, as if he'd just been told he'd been fired from a job to which he'd devoted 60 years of his professional life. And for no good reason; the profession no longer existed. It had slipped into obsolescence, like blacksmithing at the beginning of the…
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Stop talking the phone is asleep. /
It is a resting wounded animal. /
It is old and made of machines.
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I see my route home through memory and its cataracts.
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While searching for wildflowers along an old logging path bordering a ravine, I heard voices. “Damn, Clete. Where are we?” “I think you didn't make the goddamn turn, Mert, you idiot.” I looked over the edge of the ravine beside my path.…
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We were always blowing stale enough air into each other's faces from the smallest roundest tables available looking at each other sideways at the same sad time as the puppet show…
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I spend my time sitting on the back step—poison oak reddening my arm—under the eaves, waiting to escape.
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I look back at Bobby, his wide blue eyes staring at me. A dark shadow on his round baby face also tells me that he isn't entirely convinced if the thing is dead in the first place. Because even the folks buried in the town's only cemetery have a way of co
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Two weeks later, on his way to a neighbor boy's house, Tim sees Tony on his way to the nearby convenience store.
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Call it Chanukkah, call it Kwanzaa
Whatever the name, I just don’t wanzaa!
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Seamus has the palsy now
who once was called another name.
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Oh my God!
The question of whether or not we each have a double has been answered. Yours is living in Louisville, KY. It was you...young you. I already knew it, but seeing your picture just slammed it home. Again.
I knew I shouldn't have told you
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The Guy Behind Me
only had one item.
And he looked too young
to fully grasp
Loneliness.
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The sky’s on fire with existence
When I’m around you
Your wandering kisses enter my soul
But your quiet beauty may be
What really carries you
It is like
Finding and touching the
Pearl of existence
To be near you
Was that your tattoo
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On my snowshoe walk today
a man leaned out his window and
yelled at me to go away.
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You say very little when all is ready, the coffee and all, and afterward, during the ride, and even less as suddenly thirteen women pile in.
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I saw two men trying to help a pigeon with a run-over wing in London,
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I wonder if she is my real mother, if I could get one of those paternity tests and find out if she’s my real mother and if the guy she told me was my father was really my father. I can’t remember him very well, just a lot of him screaming and hollering an
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The middle finger talks of many things
How I killed the moon
But still drank the moonshine
And how getting over her took
Some bleeding from the soul
Maybe it’s the Inner Face of Outer Space
That worries me the most
But what about the Fro
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Every other year or so, a high school senior
would go and climb the thing, and paint something
vapid, jejune, as the spinster English teacher would say.
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I looked at your long fingers in the sunlight,
/ pale and delicate as paper, and I thought:
/ Those same fingers were in someone’s pussy
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My sister walked in the room while I read Ginsberg / reciting the lines to Jaweh & Allah Battle to myself /sweating in the heat contour of my ugly body on the bed /
the room the stench of rottenhumanasscracksemen
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I like to collect twilights. I fold them carefully and put them in my wallet. They fit neatly between the dollar bills that have a weird tendency to curl. This bugs me. I don't know why they do that. Something to do with the design of the wallet. But the twilights fit…
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