

Automated LibrarianI. The FallAutomated Librarian
Books have been falling for days. The librarian stands with broom, dustpan in hand,
sweeps words under the carpet hides them in places no one will look:
stick the garden words with the dust motes music words with severed spider legs and
cooking words in the kennel out back.
No, no. He shakes his head. This just wont do. Throw away the broom, the dust and the kennel cage. Attach legs to body the only way this human knows how What else to connect with? What else but wire?


The Killing ClubShe held the list of names, looked soft, asked me Becky, what is this?The Killing Club
Our club kills wind. Our club kicks and jabs, our limbs punch the air, exclamation points on a page of nothing.
In second grade, all eight years drip as sweat behind our knees, running from the boys at recess. We sign our names to petitions, reach out with an ache in the armpit, saying someone o someone pick me up like that again.
What is this, Becky, what is this?
How were we to realize the danger in naming, in capturing the light years, dangli


Raccoons in the NightWhy is every woman here on Weight Watchers, why do they trim the edgeRaccoons in the Night
where it just begins to get interesting? Why don't diets work? Why!?
Diets are flags! Diets are airplane banners dragged across the sky above the beach
on which we lie, pink and burning like rotisserie meat.
If I have to hear Run or Walk without With Glee or In Silence I will buy ten pairs of Reeboks I will take cardio-kickboxing until my knees break the sound barrier.
I will walk to Missouri (Lee's Summit seems West enough) and


Flood WatchWater flows through town, takes over the low lying farm fields as trees turn to sinking islands, arthritic arms flailing for rescue. Townspeople come to gawk, walk across the bridge to the edge where the road falls off and the new shore laps against gravel.Flood Watch
A little girl, maybe four, walks between her dreadlocked parents, holds their hands and with the bursting whisper of childhood calls out to the flocks of geese and seagulls cawing and splashing, searching the impromptu lake for dinner and dessert.
The town has been melting for weeks, rock faces streaming with runoff
like
Devious Comments
you are truly one of my favourite writers
Much appreciated :]
--
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of dust.
--
we're all dying, baby.
--
The Moving Finger writes, and, having writ,
Moves on: not all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half Line.
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.
Omar Khayyam
--
there is beauty in evasion and at times, it's too beautiful that it becomes faceless
you're a teacher? i think teachers are most deigned.
Yes!IT does, it does.
--
My Lehrer is superior than you.
it came to me one day, in bout 3.5 seconds, when a student asked me to create an account here.
i think it probably applies to us all, no?
--
My Lehrer is superior than you.
--
Read This Magazine - [link]
--
Writing.
Wow! You really are a brilliant poet, aren't you?
Why don't you join the poetry contest from [link] ?
It's free and every nitwit such as myself who enters gets a small gift
but someone like you might win one of their $10 000 or $100 000 prizes.
I was on DA and so I wanted to comment you. I don't really have much to say. blarblarblar.
--
shinjitsu no uta wa kono mune ni nagare
magic goats can
--
Art by prisoners [link]
All work is under copyright by the original author/creator.
--
* I'm so excited, I pissed my pants a bit, see? *
I have had a terrible, terrible day today. But then I read your comment. (I hadn't checked my page for comments until now.)
"i think i can see, from those you favorited, where your heart is. perhaps lingering near the edge of a canyon, perhaps thinking about what is out there, what is behind you, where you are headed. and love."
perfect interpretation. I couldn't have said it better if I had tried. That is exactly where my heart is.
I have yet to decide which side of this canyon I want to be on. There is the lighter side, the side of new beginnings which I haven't seen yet, the side that also tends to be the easier side. Or there is the more difficult side, the side where I wait in the dark with some hope and a knot in my stomach, for a man that i have harmed, that should not come back to me, but still could. If he sees my true heart, shaped like a broken umbrella with too many washed out colors from too many untold storms.
Your writing has helped me. I only favorite things that help my heart feel less alone.
The company of your words was good. And your praise of my own speech was even better.
Thank you for making my face a little brighter on a washed-out kind of day.
--
** Serena **
(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens; only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
-- e.e.cummings
more kisses this 2008 beautiful one!
--
there is beauty in evasion and at times, it's too beautiful that it becomes faceless
Thank you for the add and faves and everything. Much love!
--
What is to give light must endure burning.
- Viktor E. Frankl
thx for the
--
my website: [link]
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