288 7 1
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You might be Miss Piggy. But I'm not Kermit the frog.I miscalculate the sums of our predicamenttrying to catch the dragonflies, rolling aroundthe dampness of our resenting this old modern world.You might be Missy Piggy. But I'm not Kermit the frog.I'm just here…
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288 19 10
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286 21 9
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286 3 1
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Sally Sally Sally, don't you go round those roses,those roses, they can hurt you. Now that someonehas written a poem about youit is maybe not the poem you would want written about you.In another universe you may have been a revenge haikuprinted on a greeting card on…
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284 4 2
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The radio sputtered, and did not stop, then from your eyes fell things light years from their meaning (a fall forever) intangible yet cogent mantras. My works full of silence, pools of water upon which nothing can reflect. But I shall…
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284 3 2
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From the compass of the self the unifying leap,gravitate gently, atoms that sleep,to where mystery reclines and solution must rise,but only for a fraction a lifetime implies.No sphere sympathetic to station or throne.All peripatetic. No flesh. No bone.Nothing to…
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284 3 2
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IA promised land so tiny, one that rests upon a pin, knows only death as theory, knows only sleep as sin. Disregard the deluge of that which never is, is the nothing that is hers the nothing that is his? Let us go to Venus, pretend that it is …
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283 1 1
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There was plenty of sadness and disappointment---that was expected---but also a weird unexplainable freedom. It was as if his real self was no longer tied to his body. No, he was floating a few feet above things and looking down placidly, forgivingly, on
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283 5 3
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Remember Ben Nevis? Trying to reach the summit,seeming to take forever until it seemed to take a second,some song (not heard before or since) playing maniacally on someinstrument in our heads,or maybe it was just in mine.Familiar …
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282 8 5
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280 10 7
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280 3 1
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What time is it exactly? A time no one should know? A time of unrequited beauty? A time when gods must go to some level of subsidence? A parabola long unseen? Some point bereft of distance? A cosmic mezzanine? A…
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279 3 3
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All poets that end their poems with words like cancer should be hungSingers sweetly croonAbout the blood of the lambNail pierced handsThorny crownAnd 39 bloody stripes. …
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278 4 2
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278 5 4
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0 is beautiful0 invented by Indians1 you can almost trust2 is poor3 the figure of human nature4 the face of all paradox5 is a handsome man6 a repetitive voice7 is a temptress9 an ugly and noisy digitSo too is 8100 is rich1000 the symbol of strength1 million resembles a…
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277 8 4
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It’s just a joke, give them a poke, electric jigger in the hand
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276 4 2
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over much howling of poetry and things that act as if they were dying
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274 12 5
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Lo and Behold, there you are beside me
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274 0 0
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The liquid cognizance of this wide green sphere makes my eyes water, my conscience cheer, mademoiselle meridians swapping their places, this is the moment when no one praises and praxinoscopes like gods are at once everywhere beyond…
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274 10 5
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271 2 1
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Even as I moveTowards some form of true reprieve I can't make head nor tail of you Except when you speak in tongues In the dark progressive hills In the fields that freedom chills In the house Democracy built You will find a hint of guilt …
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271 6 4
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I offer you an orangeYou say you'd prefer an appleI offer you an orangeYou say, noI want an appleYou say you had a bad experienceWith eating an orangeHmm, I sayYes, but what does it matter?You say you are not eating the orangeUnder no circumstances will you everEat an…
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270 7 1
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I would drinkbut Iam unfortunatelychainedto a senseof selfpreservation.
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270 7 3
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Hi,thought I'd drop you a line or 2I haven't seen all the sights yet,saw numerous tidespretend to come in,sat under some monuments,visited a few museums,rode a couple of donkeys.The weather isunpredictable, made me thinkof what you said the other dayand a thought occurred…
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270 12 7
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269 0 0
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Stanley Blade was a strange boy who fell in love with a fictional German spy named Marie Janis written 30 years before he was born. He dreamed of being a fighter pilot to bring down the only man who had bed her.
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268 7 5
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I'm sucking in the environment
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268 8 4
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As I understand it, he crafted his art from sweat and blood; on parchment of living scrotum stretched over fretful porpentines; using a fresh dodo quill for each new preposition, and all that only on the first wet day after solstice in Yobhel. Something l
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267 11 4
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I spent our years together
being someone you'd approve,
and all
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266 4 2
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All are words, so quickly they decay, into silence, spaces that persist, amnesias singing of day. A world without perversityis a world of death,each measure of dissent a measure of applause. Fury signifies you; nothing is everything. Your ascendancy of eyes, in pursuit of…
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