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Showing posts from October, 2014
This is the way the world ends by Helen Rickerby
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This story is about remembering and forgetting Not knowing where you are or if it's real But you can die with a martini in your hand * The girl in pink, skating towards you has an automatic weapon behind her back and this drug will take you to Jesus if Jesus is a chorus- line of short-skirt nurses * There is too much sun in California for shadows * There are
Lines excerpted from Bentleyisms: by Nelson Bentley
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Quick acts of thievery are essential in this business. Without poetic vision there is no love. Everyone should write an outhouse poem. Poets invent the language. There would be no language if it weren't for us. People would just go around grunting. One extra word can ruin a whole poem. Visualize your metaphor! Avoid self-pity like the plague. Support onamatopoeia. There's no such thing as
Johnny by John O'Connor
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He travelled the length of the country giving concerts for penguins tickets were free - or koha. The trick was to get them early / "Give me the chick till the age of seven & I'll give you the bird!!" he'd say. Arrhh / most nights the mosh-pit filled quickly the eggs were incubated by DOC & CNZ. Naturally as the events were of national insignificance the media were ecstatic