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Maybe you know me. At leastyou’ll have heard of my eyesand how you ought not lookat them- fulgent, burrowingbeneath a veil of thick writhingbrai..
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I suppose it was the way you said my name.
Some note like birdsong feathering
down from a regiment
of pines, embroidering the landscape.
I wa..
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Can the river be faulted. It is just
doing its thing and you step in. If
you didn’t see the rapids running,
(they are not horses so don&..
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A Story by Eilis
Ninety-five times out of a hundred you can stop on the railroad tracks and nothing will happen. At least that's what my Grandmother says. Thing is, h..
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It is not a vision of cavalry,
mounting conspicuous horses.
Making flesh settle
under saddles--
tender subjects
of violence. It is not
dicti..
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A Story by Eilis
Boys like my hair. At least that’s what they’ve said. There’s not a lot to it, but, I guess I am the only girl in our grade that doe..
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Time is a pocket in need
of repair. I have placed
memories in it like marbles
and watched them roll away.
But perhaps, unlike time, this act..
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Take me to the middle
of nothing where grass
is cropped to make a quilt
for lying with autumn earth.
Where my mind, my body,
have nowher..
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after Jericho Brown
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There is this sound that can drownout anything. A primitive languagelilting through the window (I wouldrather not talk anymore --maybejust listen) un..
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