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Then we who cheered for the apocalypseReturn, as planets stagger from alignment,Back to work. So we make our roundsAnd cradle our heads upon our palms..
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There is something in the winding of a roadThat makes you wonder, even in the calm,If you could or should have lived another way.This one goes through..
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A tribute to Emily Dickinson.
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What I read is scandalous, my boy,For it says that pugs are hobgoblinsWith big bug eyes and wrinkly little faces,And it says their pudgy bodiesAre lik..
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No one waits upon this mailbox anymore.See this patch of grass, this gravel roadThat leads to nowhere.A tall yellow house once stood here,And like eve..
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The clinic stood at the top of a mountainWhere each more distant row of peaksWas a paler shade of blue. On the wallThe icon of the spine was carved in..
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IRailroad spikes on the windowsillCorrode with the dead cicada.It was there he watched in mourningAs the Bush House burned to the ground.That night he..
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Given we must live by starlightWe should expect our sun is yellow,And liquid water must be flowingOn the surface of our planet.Given that the earth mu..
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