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On Sunday Morning
I heard the subway pouring out of your mouth. I thought, maybe, it was an early-morning thing, letting sleep spill from your body onto the week-worn floor. I didn’t ask you to reveal this to me, I cling to the milky curtain that lets you stay a hanging portrait. Now I see the clear lines…
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Half is Just Enough to Make Sure You Will Eat another Someday
Enough of this, this mania, and the fear that your body will turn against you. Keep waking up in the empty morning and its thin light, and everything will be the same for the rest of us. This should calm you: that nobody can see the blood that’s been rolling through you, shouting that here…
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Wondering What Makes the Sea Angry During a Storm
The frantic thrust against a worn beach front. The need to fling upwards and the sickening curling under of a mind changing suddenly.
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This Just in From Paris
Paris: city of romance, city of wine, cheese and…belligerent drunks? Gropers on the subway? Public urination? Though it is called the City of Lights, Paris, as I have come to know it, actually has a dark and seedy underbelly. Having decided to study here for the semester, I am starting to wonder what I have…