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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Colors blur on the spinning carousel, A DaVinci's palette, with Lights, bright lights, Flashing their dancing feet in your wonder-struck eyes. If you see your reflection In the mirror's glassy waters, Could you reach out and grasp it? Can you bring yourself to touch Your own bloody...
  • Fiction > Fan Fiction
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    His smell lingers with me always, even in my sleep... as if the dark folds of his cloak were draped about my shoulders, heavy and made of a cloying velvet. I wait for him every night, Cathy having shooed me away from the common room and the loud nightly customers, ever the conscientious innkeeper. W...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    flaccid white skin and silence over breakfast. the broken, the beaten over-the-hill sorry baby but you're gonna die the words pour out and never stop. pound pound pound, the pounding of your heart it beats in rhythm blood in your ears your veins. the color of your eyes is red. silence stre...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Sitting here, now, I Remember the way he winked At me, the rogue, and Slid his ring onto the tip of my Pale, shaking finger. I should have trimmed my nails. He would run a Mile through the frosted fall grass, Feet bare, toes numb; Rosy cheeks and clouded breath, coming Urgent, short... ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Sí, mamá, me deje Insultar. Why did you let them, mí paloma? The comforting smell of Black beans, of Red-hot chilis, of sweat And the thumping sound of my Heart Fills my brain, and I sigh. Dignity is a commodity. Yo siento la vergüenza. They say that my mamá was a Bad girl. Her b...
  • Nonfiction > Academic
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    This man, these paintings, this blatant show of raw brutality. You can't categorize them. You can say he was inspired, you can say he was influenced; you can say he was possessed by the artistic demons of depression and candor... and he was. The colors of his mind, the way he saw life, felt it ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    the wind laughs at the Angry waters drumming the roofs with Dancing heels, and the swish-swash of the rain on the pavement makes the thunder Roar at its Mischief. I sit Looking over the rim of a mug at ice-blue eyes, coming in the door and flickering a...
  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
  • Art /
    Photo > Photographs
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