Stories tagged sea

Some Notions of Humanity

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We enclose in the end of us, a wilderness.At the bottom—A wounding and bloodful sea.Between these two cardinal points, we divide,We love and evolve matching witsBlown by incessant airs of nirvanas there. Heaven, herself, is but a ready-made featherKnocking at the…


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I go to the seaand turn myself over in my hand like a shell: a hollow conch carried on the resonance of a song long past its singing. My heart is a well and this city, one that is forever in drought.

It's October, 1956.

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It's October, 1956 and my mother is told her sister has died. Were they sure? She had just seen her sitting in her science class that very morning, probably taking notes on emulsion and dispersion, twirling her pencil in the air as if mixing a Gimlet...

The Tricycle

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The large black pedals on the red/Tricycle rotate, push along the cracked,/Weedy surface.

The Snotgreen Sea

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The only reason why Paddy talked to me at all was because I quoted from Ulysses. The sea, the snotgreen sea, the scrotumtightening sea! I shouted as I shucked oysters for the dinner rush.

The Faceless Girl Tells Stories

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spreading gilded pages with a tlickt

And the Caribbean Sea is a bitter woman tonight

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And the Caribbean Sea is a bitter woman tonight

Olive Green

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Five years ago—or maybe ten—I clipped an article containing a quote that has haunted and inspired me ever since, and tacked it to my wall. Describing the success of diplomats from nearly ninety nations to convene in Oslo, Norway, and agree on the wording

fish gut buckets

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The pier stretched out by where sharks came and men waited with beautiful dirty buckets that held strange and dangerous things, buckets with fish guts, buckets with blood, with character, buckets like prophets or a gritty desert walking saviour like Chris

Castor and Pollux

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Over the stained fence the spectres flew and that is where the rain was turning colder and colder in the time when the trees had become mostly bare.


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We knew the future was there, that it lay out in space but it too seemed frozen, shimmering just on the horizon of the last sun we will see for months. We were trapped, most of us scientists, the rest barely even seamen. This was Antarctica, 1897.


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He is sleek with hearts and I see a different name etched onto each one.

Henry, reach!

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I've heard it said that nothing lasts forever. But when I heard this, no one could have made me believe that nothing referred to my Helen. For it was just this morning that I watched her step quite happily onto our porch, and blow me her goodbye kiss, as


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Your sweet salt taste, your pulse of wind, the small, unspectacular way you lie –

Passing the Last Buoy

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I am stunned that you’re gone here one moment, vanished the next leaving only profound stillness in all the spaces and moments you used to be