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Literature Text
The cake was disruptive, but
I'm glad that it helped you fly
My own wings withered years ago
When I was overcome by the croaking
of the frogs down in the swamp
The ferris wheel you loved has
been disassembled then re-assembled
in exactly the same fashion
Only I and a few owls know this
But we don't speak of it
Last night I left my feet at your place
Would you mind very much mailing them to me?
I don't think I'll be going
to any more parties for a while
I don't really like cake
I'm glad that it helped you fly
My own wings withered years ago
When I was overcome by the croaking
of the frogs down in the swamp
The ferris wheel you loved has
been disassembled then re-assembled
in exactly the same fashion
Only I and a few owls know this
But we don't speak of it
Last night I left my feet at your place
Would you mind very much mailing them to me?
I don't think I'll be going
to any more parties for a while
I don't really like cake
Literature
Just Desserts
#100408
Age: 53
Meal: Six (6) Maine red lobster tails
One (1) bowl of black caviar
One (1) glass of Chardonnay
One (1) scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, topped with dark chocolate ganache and a Maraschino cherry.
Comments: Garbage. I always knew rich people were full of shit.
#100481
Age: 46
Meal: One (1) pepperoni pizza from Little Caesar’s.
One (1) waffle cone, chocolate
Comments:
#100627
Age: 62
Meal: One (1) bottle of Clear American, Fuji Apple flavor
Two (2) Payday candy bars.
Comments:
#100784
Age: 26
Meal: Two (2) fried chicken legs
One (1) bowl of mashed potatoes, brown gravy
One (1) bowl of creamed corn
One (1) glass of mi
Literature
truths
i.
there are 2 things that not even the most
forceful of rains can cleanse me of:
-memories
-mistakes
ii.
sometimes, i feel like a caged lion.
only with a lot more impatience
and a lot less resilience.
iii.
i have yet to discover what it means to be content.
i am either too stagnant or too fluid.
no middle ground.
iv.
i have mastered the art of leaving.
it's the idea of moving on that still haunts me.
v.
i fear that the light in my eyes is so dim that it will burn out
before even i have a chance to see the world with it.
vi.
i am not as clever as i pretend to be.
vii.
someone needs to teach me that
i don't need reassurance; i
Literature
Plucking
Plucking
The table between us is a moon.
But the air is heavy. It lies
on us, muffled heat stilling
our breaths. You drop your fork,
but I still won't look at you. Even angels
would crawl if they were here.
"Why can't we be friends?"
I am thinking of a Flemish tapestry
I once saw in a white stone house,
walls dense and prickly with roses:
a line of stiff scarlet soldiers,
a rearing horse. The soldiers' thick fingers
grope at the blank cream cloth,
seeking purchase, gravity.
"What are you feeling?"
"I want to be a Flemish soldier,"
I tell you. Only my fingers
would constantly pluck at the expanse,
searching for the thread
that will unra
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After eating nothing but pizza for three days.
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Comments54
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In our house its the persistent noodles that wont leave us in peace.
The memory of washing them out of the drain has a meaning all of its own.
The memory of washing them out of the drain has a meaning all of its own.