BlueIris
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Tue Nov-11-08 08:26 AM
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The BlueIris Semi-Nightly Poetry Break, 11/11/08 |
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"Figures"
When he walks by an old drunk or a stumbling vet, he stops to rummage in his pockets for spare change or a stray bill, remembers the cold urge of fifteen years ago that kept his joy trapped in a bottle or in the stained nub of a roach passed from one set of cracked lips to another. Their creased palms opened like scrolls toward the bright coins of light, stamped chips of winter barter for the scraps and opiates of this city. He won't ask and doesn't care what his money is exchanged for: a blanket, a pair of wrecked shoes, the harsh, sharpened glare of a needle, or a pack of smokes. Who can calculate the worth of one man's pain? What they need, he figures, can't be more than what he owes.
—Dorianne Laux
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Chorophyll
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Tue Nov-11-08 09:28 AM
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I love Dorianne Laux. :hug:
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BlueIris
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Tue Nov-11-08 09:35 AM
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2. I've been coming and going. |
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It's been a little busy in the House of BlueIris, and I didn't want the other poems I have left to share for this project to get ignored in favor of election elation.
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CaliforniaPeggy
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Tue Nov-11-08 12:19 PM
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Oooh, this is too good!
How perfectly appropriate for Veteran's Day...
Thank you...
:patriot:
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Tuesday Afternoon
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Tue Nov-11-08 12:50 PM
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who among us can calculate the worth. :patriot: :kick:
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BlueIris
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Tue Nov-11-08 08:05 PM
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BlueIris
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Tue Nov-11-08 08:43 PM
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6. Awwwww, somebody rec'd this. So sweet. nt |
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