1266 7 3
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In winter The Woods sleeps and the Woodsman comes. He collects the dead wood and makes coal. He nurses the injured animals and prepares the dying. He distributes the snow and regulates the temperature. In his fur hat…
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1224 8 3
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First of all, there was no snow. I seem to remember that. And there was no Christmas tree in the house.
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1442 6 3
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When the world is quiet, all your thoughts demand attention.
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1364 5 4
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You know how it is, one day a good friend sends you this long note telling you how-the-hell they are or aren't getting along in the frigging world
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203 4 3
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Fold in the edges.
Careful.
Creases marked and thumbnail pressed.
Don’t look up.
Fold in the edges.
Concentrate.
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1302 7 4
|
I don’t want to debate polemics while I’m sweaty and naked. I just want my hair cut.
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1672 5 4
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People tell me my personality is a drug. Could be. My shadow is a spine. And I have the current density of copper. A welcoming face. Opium eyes opium thumbs. The piccolo is parenthetical. …
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5216 6 3
|
Winston Peacock had had a long day that New Year’s Eve of the final full year of his old life. There had been contemplation about the grave failures, the money lost. The third quarter of this past fiscal year had been especially dismal.
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496 4 3
|
In September she had been wise.
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719 2 3
|
Robot telephones me today...
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236 8 3
|
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1009 5 3
|
It was on the Fake News today, Oh boy
They built a bridge from Alaska to Siberia
Called the Bridge Over Troubled Waters
Instead of a wall
And Putin came riding bareback on a pink unicorn
Into the White House and renamed it
The White Horse,
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1104 11 2
|
The water lapped against the sides of the small boat, their rhythm all that I could think of. Sweltering rays beat down, frying my flesh, the insipid salty breeze that occasionally stirred my only relief from it. Gulls circled overhead, like white ravens,
|
1150 2 1
|
The Bike Messenger on Lexington Avenue
Comes to rest
taking a moment
in the falling rain
slowly massaging the
veins at the top
of his bald head
Cracking his neck
while the yellow cabs start
honking behind him
Unwilling to mov
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1470 11 3
|
“Your husband is an asshole, isn’t he?” he asks.
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514 7 2
|
Today I tweeteda picture ofmyself holding atampon. Yes,you read that correctly. It's strangethat we still talk aboutperiods in hushed tonesisn't it? Halfthe population goes throughit every month but it's notsomething we talk about openly.You know when you…
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1152 4 3
|
When I met Gregor Samsa he was still a cockroach, erratic and skittish whenever the light came on. We often spoke in the dark. I empathized with the man. I mean bug. Ok. That isn't fair. You can't call a man a bug because he chirps and eats dried skin cells. A…
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966 5 1
|
As with the trouble with gambling, I managed to spend beyond my self-suggested limit at the farm while wanting to do little else. It became a chase for "money" (numbers like rubles) ...
|
1239 4 4
|
A man on the sidewalk dressed as a hot dog hits a triangle dinner bell with a clang and yells for everyone to come and eat at Hot Dog Hot Dog. We were feeling more like fish and chips or spicy pulled pork, but there's something about how…
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1173 4 4
|
the carnival ride hurtles the spinning man over canyons of light and barkers & streams of cotton candy girls
|
1306 6 3
|
I love going fast. The last bank I robbed didn't know what hit them.
|
787 4 3
|
a ruminating marsupial? if so,/
I guess I’d be a kangaroo, the cud soured/
and pasted to the tongue . . .
|
1136 5 3
|
Rose lifted her 55-year-old legs until they were perpendicular to the bed and admired how girlish they looked. It gave her the sexy legs of a 20-year old, if the morning light was right and she squinted a bit.
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1342 6 3
|
when the devil dies he divides enough evil for everybody
|
1558 5 4
|
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.
|
1832 6 1
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I am coming to understand how many memories of my father involve him, driving
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1030 5 2
|
If Heaven holds forth its own Infinity, What of selves, of ours, could we stand to see? Cradled with harsh fangs of Memory, Deep forgetfulness, give rather me- Let bright dreams be our self's divinity: Forever holds, in morrow's hours, such little…
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1131 4 3
|
A dying man I'll wake, before the dawn; A dying man I'll wake, before the dawn May come and send me far away to sleep. May, come and send me far away to sleep; Before the dawn I'll wake, a dying man: Come, send me far to sleep, May, and away. …
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1194 4 3
|
The print is not ideal, it's true.
|
1105 5 3
|
We took our turn at the younger stage. One good turn deserves another and all that crap. But does it always have to strong-arm the world's latest lovers apart with so much pushed and shoved ultra violence?So far…
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