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A LETTER & A SHORT STORY: For you, trapped in an amber casing. Stop counting pennies and nickels and the scratches on the bott...

A LETTER & A SHORT STORY: For you, trapped in an amber casing. Stop counting pennies and nickels and the scratches on the bottoms of tap shoes, weighing teaspoons of dust and hoping they're from the stars, blue sky, good intent, just this, just so. Somewhere along the way, you stopped writing poetry and started writing laundry lists and self-help manuals and comedies and tragedies (which turned out to be the same thing), again and again, until your ribs were sore and they couldn't decide whether to protect or betray. Your heart might have fight enough to leap...

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#12 Summer began with a bit of a cry. It felt like a three-legged race and tasted like Listerine. Then flying, and lakes, ice, yell...

#12 Summer began with a bit of a cry. It felt like a three-legged race and tasted like Listerine. Then flying, and lakes, ice, yellow, blue, spring rolls, midnights. Spit and rinse. That's what I thought, and in that order, as I passed floor to ceiling glass windows on my way to board KE905, which would take me away from the borders of one country and set me down, following a subsequent train ride or two, onto the teetering edge of another. We closely monitor the state of the sky. How it is in various intersections of x...

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