1968 2 1
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It’s always daylight there
My brother comes running down the sidewalk
holding out his arms and calling my name
He’s wearing suspenders. He’s gotten thinner
in heaven
He embraces me warmly
wanting us to be friends
I give up trying to re
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1968 5 5
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1968 26 18
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sooner or later you realize
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1968 11 6
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You haven't lived until she dances just for you ..
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1967 9 9
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What if I said;
I never liked actually reading?
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1967 3 3
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1967 0 0
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At night, on these New England roads, there is no light, no pink sodium-vapor glow, no guideposts.
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1967 20 6
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The book has known many women’s hands, something erotic and frequently checked out from our local library. Its cover depicts a man and a woman, both with improbable if not impossible bodies. I believe the term is bodice-ripper.
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1967 10 10
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Bob’s thoughts drift back to bird, the solitary creature in the field, dignified, unhurried, waiting. Bob wonders where he goes; surely he will move on when spring gives way to summer.
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1966 29 12
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Night fell and the photographer slept, one hand between Prue's legs.
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1966 12 3
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....sees the beginning of a new day through the closed shutters, hears the guard washing up at the sink, feels the beginning of a cry in his throat.
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1966 13 11
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She sits and waitsOn a chair that is hardWith a neck that hurtsAnd an eyeball that stings.She sitsSo stiffOn a chair that is hardWith a neck that hurtsAnd an eyeball that stings.She sitsAnd the hand on her lapHas a joint that cracksWith a neck that hurtsAnd an eyeball that…
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1966 12 8
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The blue Victorian at 1145 White Street shifts in its foundation, creaks, and settles in for the night. The girls are bundled into their beds. My wife, too, has gone to sleep. I’m alone in the kitchen, steeping chamomile tea, coughing phlegm into the wr
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1966 16 13
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I am a purveyor of leeches. All my
friends are purveyors of leeches.
We meet weekly to compare our wares.
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1966 15 3
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He stopped the shower and recounted his life, now Kin-less and plain.
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1966 7 3
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“There are no inhibitions in here,” the postman shouted, gesturing at the dance floor with his Marlboro Light, the glowing tip aimed at a woman in a taut skirt. Leaning far forward, her hands nearly touching the plywood floor, she planted her feet and beg
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1965 12 6
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We go in gently at first, skimming over the first few swells and dropping speed, but then we pitch hard, tail over. The windshield holds. I think of Lily. I think of the baby. And I see my life.
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1965 14 9
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i stained his hockey sheets
right over the red wings
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1965 3 1
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You never knew How to express What you didn't know You felt With your words You picked on You taunted You destroyed Did it help To feel yourself Did it work To disparage Those who were Innocent and young Blameless For living …
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1965 11 7
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He was her summer fling, the first cock to crow when the sun rose over her tequila smile.
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1965 14 8
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once she went to quenchthen she went to scrubnow she collects dead toadsgrinds them with cornmeal to feed her sowsonce she ploughed the land toiled with her face deep in dark soil her back burning in hot sunnow she works in the paper millmaking laminated labels for the…
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1964 16 11
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Poor souls. Likely they'll be poets.
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1964 10 5
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I scare my daughter when she sleeps because she thinks I'm going to kill her.
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1964 2 2
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His birthday buddy was like a wife to him: they were born a day apart.
This was coordinated, he believe, in the womb. Well, to be more accurate, wombs. She was due two weeks earlier but waited; he two weeks later but cut his womb-time (as the kids call i
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1964 24 10
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One sunny morning, a big-bellied ball of yellow fur surveyed a yard full of prospective adopters and ran straight to one.
She’d been chosen.
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1964 13 13
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Talking about a Friend Over a Cup or Two of Coffee “Their first fight was over school lunches. Free school lunches. She taught Kindergarten in a public special ed center for emotionally disturbed children. The…
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1964 13 7
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1964 16 4
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Somewhere along tomorrow, I will forget I have the right to do this.
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1964 5 4
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The apartment was a second-level place, so I went down the steps and looked through the stained glass window of the door. “Ah hell,” I said to myself. Raymond Carver and John Fante and Charles Bukowski were outside. I opened the door.
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1963 4 1
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I'm delighted to report that I've come up with my own school of thought. It's called, "Dress Like a Cat Until You Get What You Want."
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