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Who's this, sleeping inside of me?
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Your absence is tangible.
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I dream of somewheres, anywheres, elsewheres.
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A sonnet in alexandrines.
For T., whose breath is poetry.
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Ruin, n. : a fallen, wrecked, or decayed condition
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Airplanes are lonely places.
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"If I die maybe I would rather have a house like this than a plaque with an angel."
A childhood vignette.
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Along with love and death, nature is the one thing about which we will never run out of things to say.
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In memory of my grandmother, who passed away on May 29 and whose legacy will, I hope, long outlive me.
Another abecedarian for another contest, an en..
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He's been watching her for four years. Now, they talk.
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