Author: Richard J Tilley
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She Will Meet Them in the Sand and the Frowning Parade
sagacity warrant for the great mislabeled sparrow She turns Her head towards the frowning parade that is like a gas light in perpetual applause treble enclosure for Her forever sea...
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The Pelican of inkhorn juste milieu
shabrack crossing saddlecloth armory of flagitious nouveau riche toddlers seasoned in European travelogues like sinking pastime exposure they will sing as they pray ingratiated with sold family with enough money...
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The dust and cake of peace(meal) offering
A solitary peasant of sociological industry a formal apology across the riotous thrown stones a derivative exponible stolen lantern soft coal for the older gods bitumen of forced labor for...
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Decades of Deliberation
The commoming of tossed sacred ground tokens of persuasion against married scattered toys adrift in the sanctimoniously harbored escaping sea stalwarts of dancing atrophy and curds of smoking laughter like...
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Abstruse Servicemen of Plate Tracery
Echoes of tanglefoot laughter outside on the frosted bench where the catabolism of joy sits pregnant like a whale song in the ditches of starbase mornings contra proferentem laundry dresses...
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Winter Abounds
In the heat-soaked afternoons with the telemetry and high dogs sounding like the Virginia Gazette on its last press there are doorways to the morning light with dim fashioned creations...
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execrable doorknobs
There is a path to the golden way that is, if gold is a matter of worth just a reflection of a solitary source weaved into The Great Depression and...
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Gas Turbines and Commanding Glaciers
It was an easy-fitting judgement on the house of gas turbines caught alongside the asymmetries of tired wars and oblong thrush spotted breasts thunderous and stridently escaping flames nocturnal ambisonics...
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Confessional Liberation that Carries the Lament of Not Being Able to be Realized
For decades I had falsely believed the repeated extreme hardships I was seemingly fated to experience were tests tests of my character tests of my endurance tests of my adaptability…...
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When the Kids Have Stopped Working
Stalled on the treeway an olive oil change by the side of the forest the streets lined with pickles and berries we should have known better the olives only react...