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by Ms. Trick
21 lines, 1 comment,
on Sep 4 7:55 PM 2007
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4. The villain seizes the daylight. This occurs only once.
(165) Parents launch a small boat, carrying their sleeping son, into the sea.
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The world ticks by like a bomb, like a bird
stumbling breathless, sometimes wingless.
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The sunlight leaves sheet music against my closed eyelids / and songs trickle through and waltz out of me.
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/ / Unremembered is the fading warmth / of thousands of hands brushing, pressing / the leaves that pant in blots of sunshine / and cool when the wind huffs balloons of moonlight / across the fields. / / The
by Ms. Trick
31 lines, 6 comments,
on May 12 4:39 PM 2007
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/ / We are drugged. / The sidewalks ribbon out and arch up to become veins. / Another day in hero kingdom. / / We swipe our fingers through the lazy smoke and / write out fiction about plastic skeletons. /
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by Ms. Trick
22 lines, 2 comments,
on Mar 12 9:52 PM 2007
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by Ms. Trick
12 lines, 2 comments,
on Mar 4 9:55 PM 2007
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by Ms. Trick
23 lines, 3 comments,
on Dec 27 8:58 PM 2006
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by Ms. Trick
21 lines, 3 comments,
on Dec 15 8:57 PM 2006
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heels graze bark
and we windmill for balance
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The horseshoes slide off our wrists
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space lilies are a synonym for ‘hello'
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Our tongues curl on the scent
of gold.
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the blue dawn curls around the tips of the ravens
and we’re in a balloon
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the cold underwater lights
catch in her eyes
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The moon is like a woman in a towel
and she grins through the window.
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We craft the roles we play,
weave around the skeletons of cars on the highway.
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the juggler’s numb fingers reroute the balls
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the brown spiders make their cobwebs gleam
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Les feuilles exubérantes inclinent le menton de la brise à faire face au soleil.
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“Daydreaming doesn’t become you. Help your uncles tend the jack-o-lanterns if you have nothing to do.”
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Angels don't handle banishment to Earth very well.
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dysfunctional for the world’s ease
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Not being human is impossible.
And beyond wishes, humans are not their stories.
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Spider saddles up, top hat tilted,
photographs slipped up his sleeves.
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we should listen to the writing on the asphalt
if we’re ever going to find
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I think it's about waiting for something, knowing its close.
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as though to say, you’re still
here, we’re still here, us, together
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