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The subway tracks: I wish to walk along them,
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gods thumbs Godsthumbs
gods thumbs up
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pulsar, pulsars, sarah carmen, space rockets,
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If we begin at the beginning death could be an armadillo.
A rolled hard case: ridged, dark
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I did not sleep. Upon the sunrise I went outside to smoke the first cigarette of the day, out of the pack bought with the first paycheck of a new job.
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It snowed in October over the roof's red tin,
breaking the breath that sings for the bees.
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the little carved ghost bird
armadillo death
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richard thompson's studio is in the alley behind the bookstore i work weekends at.
he is middle aged and always wearing hawaiin shirts, hi
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there's a man made of hands who's got a map and got a plan
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Ida lives in a subdivision just outside of New Jersey.
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It's cold for august. The moon is a human life, crescent;
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You left a dead bird in my mailbox,
made the friday sky darken.
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"give" is written on robins egg blue
the colour you painted the walls
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When god set out to create the world
he made sure that he had all the proper tools he couldn't himself create:
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take me to the sea
in a green mercedes benz
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the wound is scabbed, i told him, but alcohol thins the blood.
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i cried once, it was subliminal
i spun last year, it was reciprocal
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When I saw your grief sitting in a chair
across the road
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it is the light it is the light
that ties our fingers to our kneecaps and tethers our eyes to god
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theres a place that i know where the coral grows out above the snow
and into your eyes
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For the past week and a half Geoffery Greene had felt the dark brown roots of insanity stretching through him. Like most people on the brin
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for I. Alexander who closed his 20 word contest too soon.
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There is a wind that blows Sherrilee into the middle of the road. A bus of Chinese tourists drives past curving like a rib around an iron l
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the streets are so quiet like
doors shut like mouths shut like eyes
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