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Link is Late

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Space

No such two feet of cold polite dark air between them.
The bar let out.
The drink is up.
They stand there in the street
Nose to nose
like lovers or fighters
Posted by Link at 11:04 PM

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Blog Archive

  • ►  2008 (77)
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    • ►  April (13)
    • ►  February (16)
    • ►  January (35)
  • ▼  2007 (56)
    • ►  December (25)
    • ▼  November (31)
      • Belle Laide, or Baudelaire’s Thoroughbred
      • Writers
      • The Fool’s Genius
      • The Cool Girl
      • The Excuse
      • Sephardim
      • Phineaus the Hypochondriac
      • I'm Pregnant
      • GaB
      • Five Minutes of Pleasure, an Hour of Love
      • Craise
      • Cash
      • Blessphemy
      • Birthday Song
      • Bananas
      • Bad Reference
      • Alone (in the crowd)
      • The Ontological Proof for the Existence of Love
      • Space
      • She is the Maven of my Ways
      • Santa or God
      • On How Information Cannot Decrease In the Universe
      • Of Me
      • Neurogenesis
      • Not a Pervert but not a Poet either
      • Looking for Pussy
      • My Suicide Letter
      • Lucretius or, lame poetry
      • Fucking Zen up
      • DUMB PEOPLE; or Avicenna’s Coccyx
      • Borges Must Die

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