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he laid her on her back,and placed his chin on topof her headand she,she pressed her cheekon his chest
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she wanted to write about the ocean,about its proportions, and how it resonateswith her thoughts and feelingsthat the sum of hersubconscious melds wit..
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i love the sound of the pianoin a song made for a movie about loversmy inner ear to the jazz worldwith quiet strength the hands that restupon it stead..
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black balloons tied toyour hearsethe scent of balsamand woody perfumes ofpallbearersthe soft patter ofrain at noondaybrings an array ofumbrellas in th..
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it is one of those mornings,when the cathedral ceiling ofthe living room seems to burstwith birdsongyou in a cotton dress that showsenough of your kno..
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where do i begin,when i am lost for wordswhen the intention to writeresembles a paperweight withnothing to lean onand traffic signs do not workfor me ..
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it used to be watching ants gatherand crawl on liquor bottles was enoughit used to be we never became sick fromthe food we ate,without washing our han..
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summertime we discover the taste of honeyon lemonade and the bitter sweetness of grass leaves.we place our ears on the ground for coming trains andcar..
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be like the water of a peaceful lake,that do not rage, water against water,water against stonebe still as the flower that pressesagainst windows, that..
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Sometimes she wants
to get hold of
the moon and the
universe. And she has done that.
Tonight she’d play a
minuet to watch
her own th..
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