Monday, December 8, 2008
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Speaking
How one returns from heaven or honey It’s pains how sticky the farmer, driving his empty truck through the beautiful maples of spri...
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her backed dropped like apples through the bushels of the outdoors. I didn't have the skeleton for it but I walked up to her and tol...
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When I had my vision like the dark structures of communication turning somewhat lucid I thought these borrowed breaths could picnic for a ce...
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Last night we finally got wind of the new greeting card. It sounded like shrimp head or lunch pail. But those are things of profound sadness...