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There is no silhouette in the day light no soft shadow to investigate
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I knew the day would come
when I’d rescue you, if only
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What say you now of the soul?
That elusive being you chased from
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Chaos suspends her. She stands still like the hummingbird,
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I read a line of poetry tonight that was so good I thought about stealing it
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There was one chance,
one night,
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She used to say,
while the ice tinkled in her bourbon
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He's not crazy,
takes one day at a time
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It's something I'd like to do,
climb to the top of a very tall building
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I miss you.
Your vague love me forevers
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The alarm screams
banshee like impatience.
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This is whatever the hell I want.
It sucks because you didn't say it had to be good.
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I really like pedestrian rhyme,
I like to do it all the time,
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I love you.
Yes, I know how it sounds,
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Friday Night Odyssey
It’s that time of day again,
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She whispers no
shakes her body yes
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She says no
shakes her body yes
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False ideals
flash anorexic
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It starts / some yearning like a / sweater from a second hand store / used but still cute / and for a dollar... / fuck it. / Why not? / I can feel you / creeping under my second hand sweater / wit
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Only dead trees grow here, / Brittle affirmation that life / Is indeed stilted and vague. / Branches jut obtuse angles, / Stubs where leave
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I sleep with my windows open / beg summer into my bedroom / turn the fan on and hope tomorrow / will be hot enough to pull my shorts / out of storage. / I drink dark b
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I’d like to cup your face in my hands /
Whisper ever so gentle, / a soft midnight breeze. / Your lips on my lips and I sigh / every time
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I like to lick my fingers / while no-one is watching. / Think of you and tip-toe / through my house wondering / / when your balls will grow / as big as your mouth. / / Mr. six foot two with / talk of grand
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The first blow came as a surprise. / A verbal assault of right hooks / caught me off guard and there is / no neutral corner to hide in. /
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I keep writing you off:
basket case, one night stand,
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She dances like an orchid, languid and heady
-
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Sometimes, when the moon is full,
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I've this book of selected poems by Billy Collins that leaves me
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"What do we do with this thing? this fiery woman who will not
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MSLJ recently won the Preditors and Editors reader’s poll: http://www.critters.org/predpoll/tally.html (scroll down to the Poetryzine categ
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You are right where I left you so many days ago
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I see Mr. Adelmann down towards the bottom
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