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Carried on the Wind

He walked with a peculiar gait. First, his knees would creak forward, then his feet would whip compliantly into place, frightened to be left behind, scuffing the gravel with each odd step. The rest of his body did not move, except as carried forward stiffly by his wayward legs. I ...
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poetry

iron gates of black

up the road paved, pocked, and grayed or down it, a bit near the tall-grass deer field once a farm now marked-- ‘land for sale’ in peeling, red-paint letters flattened upon a square-post wooden sign towers-- a stone home atop a slim, emerald hill’s incline the house, several times larger ...
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poetry

escape

'twasn't faith which taught me of it which made me a believer 'twasn't religion’s fiction 'twasn't even love-- for all its doubtful shadows 'neath its amber-glisten shimmer 'twas pain, absence's remembrance that first time this, my soul, be known-- again heavy, with sorrow wordless, within its well of tears those ...
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poetry

Always

Always. were we to ruminate on this word a bit we might see that it is bigger than forever-- without fail without reservation without condition without limit Always. without doubt without intent without vulnerability without start without end Always. if a word were a deity it would be Always ...
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poetry

dangling frays

I listened to some poets today, and the Mexican poet read a poem about prejudice against his people, and the black poet read a poem about oppression against his people, and one white poet read a poem about depression, and another hated most people, so he proclaimed, while one fellow ...
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poetry

one more day

look in the eyes or in those moments unguarded notice the subdued sighs no one knows how they might survive even one more day four more hours two more hours counting down to its end and tho we wonder how-- some way, we muddle through the moil until that day ...
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poetry

down in Sunburn, Carolina

down in Sunburn, Carolina I hadn’t seen him in years tho he wasn’t much changed his skin fitting a bit more loosely these days he’d a bit less hair, to shelter his thoughts still, caution stalked his words a memory of notions, become daggers we spoke of old times father ...
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poetry

flickering fluorescence

The black man in the straw hat held his beloved burgundy pride tucked and folded in his breast pocket. "Good morning." he said, passing by. "Good morning." I said, nodding in reply. "There's a man who believes in something." I told the boy. Leather heels clicked a dimming rhythm as ...
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poetry

Two AM Half-Moon

a two AM half-moon glared bright as full dusting the dulled obsidian with the crushed bones of the day's wither I’d been reading poetry-- all evening into the deep of night's squalor one poem, after another, and another many of the writers, greatly acclaimed “How can you do that for ...
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prose

Artist

It was in a prior life, before the bustling din, and the empty ring of tin, before the restless rustle of concession's sin. I’d been pure, or more so than after time's cowardly compromise; I’d been the limitless possibility told of in faith’s fable. I was a sculptor. Gypsy tramps, ...
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