1844 4 3
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I cannot read one more award winning novel by a female Asian author about the atrocities committed against their childhood, she thought. Then she sat down with her trusty yellow pad and Papermate fineline to write the next lyrical story of a female Asian writer and the…
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1844 14 8
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The rain is no terrible epitaph
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1844 3 2
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your olive-pitting thumbs
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1843 13 11
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1843 3 2
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The woods. They say don’t wander too far into the woods, where those ghosts can’t hear you and the moonlight won’t trace you a path. In the black crowd of trees there’s something waiting. Don’t go to the where the siren is singing...
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1843 19 13
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memories that no longer make sense
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1843 7 4
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Start with a long look down the alley, a small hoodied figure turning in.
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1843 20 13
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There’s / no crying in poetry!” says Coach / Bukowski
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1843 13 12
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They confess love for Karaoke and metal rock. They have purchased expensive Stratocasters and Zildjians.
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1843 7 4
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There was a time when she could quell the loathing that Fred inspired in her. She could force it down. Back then, for instance, when they’d been in counseling, the ball of hatred had only been a little, overripe orange - squishy and occasionally mushed
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1843 14 6
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The handsome man at the opposite table swivels his head at the tall cool slim blonde entering the breakfast cafe. The ordinary woman sitting with him adjusts her chair accordingly. She pretends to ignore her husband's distraction, smoothes her hair, licks her…
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1842 5 1
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One of her favorites was of an old axe asleep on a desert floor. She told people the axe had the western lips of September. That it held the song of the ocean and the dreams of a scarecrow. Some thought she was mad to talk in such a way. Others believed h
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1842 0 0
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A human cop and a cyborg detective team up to solve a case. A sci-fi-pulp-noir-detective story.
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1842 11 10
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When you were nine your head fell off in the playground. Dr Mort was called. He pasted it back on with PVA glue. You'd never know now.——When you were nine your arms turned into trees. Dr Mort worked his magic with the chainsaw. You still need light pruning once…
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1842 1 1
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This is the story of my friend, Gil
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1842 23 15
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“Why, you tell a story,” one young fellow said. The expression on his face said “How gauche, how passé!”
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1842 20 13
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She offers the girl a seat, asks her to stay for a minute, but she can’t, she just came by to say hello, and don’t you like my new raincoat?
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1842 10 7
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Sometimes after bookbinding for a few hours at the hand-sewing table, Jillie would, after scraping her knife too roughly over the glue of an old book's spine, feel not like a resurrector of literature, as she should, but a killer. Not a calculating or
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1842 4 2
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We've worked silence over /
Like pros, our best work together.
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1842 6 5
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What doesn't kill you gives you great material.
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1842 3 1
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Mr. Lowell knelt down and put his face in his hands, his knees quickly covered in blood. Sobs.
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1842 5 1
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The light against the nylon walls of the tent gets me feeling a little down. The air's wet inside, but it's warm. The whole world outside is creaking and chirping, everything that wakes up with the dawn's first tepid blue light does so and starts making n
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1841 4 2
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So if we all have an idea what goes down when the young person at the cash register (the registerista?) asks, “Can I help you?” then we all know there’s a different way to habla at Seattle’s gift to the world.
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1841 6 6
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As military tears soaked into hymnbook pages
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1841 0 1
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holland's hope and hawaii skunk
god's one true gift to mankind
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1841 10 9
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Sometimes, they beat their masters home...
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1841 5 1
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Class (appears in my book Breaking it Down; no journal publication) When your neighbor James Frehley cusses you out for hanging a block and tackle from the silver maple in your front lawn, begin to pull the engine from your Galaxie anyway, smile and nod…
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1841 0 0
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Walking into the living room and next to the tree, he handed his wife Kathy her Minnie and plopped himself on the couch. Their three kids, two girls and the youngest a boy, tore through the wrapping paper like a pack of rabid wolves tearing through a deer
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1841 7 3
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It was only later, much later, that we would discover that the war we were fighting was a war between ourselves. Melissa and I left the machine, with Carlton lost forever inside. We abandoned the warehouse. Our backs were scalded from the heat, and the hole in the…
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1841 29 16
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a world of probability against plague
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