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The Locust TreeAt the corner of the parking lot stood a tall locust tree. It was the tallest locust tree he remembered seeing. It would have no reason to be that tall had it stood alone all the time. There must have been a grove or a city woods, of which it was the last remnant. Perhaps the grove had been all of locust trees, at their tips a billow of white perfume around the middle of May. Where were its companions? Why was it spared when the row of houses along Broadway came down to make a parking lot for the businesses across the street? Maybe whose property it was was unclear. Maybe it was overlooked. Maybe the machines came mid-May, and nobody had the heart to take it down all in bloom.
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The Fallacy of the Fact of Fat Obesity is an adipose belief of yourself as a substance. —Mary Baker G. Eddy, “Science and Health” (i) Food does not exist, except in material falsehood, a vision created by “mortal mind.” The lowly bowl of mashed potatoes set on the table is an idea of eternal thought, no more real than the tuber in the ground, the soil being an illusion itself. And of this imaginary realm is butter, melted in a yellow puddle in the middle of the mound, conjured from the cow. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
I've Recently Thought About Ending My Life“‘Gold dust twins’ is a three-word phrase in which the last letter of the first word is the first letter of the second word, and the last letter of the second word is the first letter of the third word,” Mister Wizard was saying on the radio. “What’s another three-word phrase that follows this pattern? The first word contains four letters and the next two contain three: four, three, and three. The final letter of the phrase is N and the first is G. Write your answers down on a postcard and send them to me, Mister Wizard. The winner, chosen at random from all the correct answers, will receive a Mister Wizard tee-shirt!”
Hewett hated these puzzles, but he always felt compelled to try to figure them out. G-blank-blank-blank, blank-blank-blank, blank-blank-N. What could it be? He turned up Keswick Road, on his way home from running errands, thinking of words. Run, Sun, Gun, Can, Dan, Tan, Sin, Tin, Win. What could the phrase be? First letter G. Fourth letter same as the fifth, seventh the same as the eighth, the last one N. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Residuum of Physicalism In 1897 a diamond hair ornament, shaped like a crown was given to Mary Baker Eddy. Engraved on the back is the inscription “Mother 1897.” —Mary Baker Eddy Library The manifestation of a crown stuck with diamonds shone in Her hair like a vision. This symbol of Father/Mother Love, given for Her head, an ornament of grace, as described in Proverbs 4:9. (Mother Eddy always said symbols are evil, except when a representation must demonstrate a sacred principle.) The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
HealingBy Adreyo Sen QuailBellMagazine.com When I was very young, I broke my mother’s heart.
She loved me, so she hid the break. But finally, the cracks appeared in her eyes. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
To the Bodythere is no limit to the bruising
because there is no limit to the body immense with arms in different centuries too often unanesthetized and The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Lotus
What if it rained? The whiteness of my clothes would soak through, become thin as paper, as the glossy shell of sleeping larvae, like the wrinkled skin of bean-sized mice, because my hair, the insides of my shoes, they aren’t made for that. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Propellants I like to think my brother was just a victim of circumstances. I like to think he might have been somebody had the forces surrounding him been different. An astronaut, an inventor, who knows? But we can’t alter the things that kidnap our interests. I guess we turn out the way we’re supposed to.
Joey had his sins, that’s for sure. He was fearless and deeply impressionable. Those were his sins, and they were enough. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
Bollywood in Oaklandfor Sridevi, 1963—2018 The flute is telling us. Diadems on heads, beads swish. Dancers cartwheel & spin, moonwalk before the first man-on-the-moon, before the birth of rap. Lovers fling apart then swoosh together—color spectrum & then passion, garlands then lotus blossoms, full bosoms. Sacred cows graze in a hidden back lot. Filigreed & hammered metals swing—thin panels of silk shirred & gathered, hang from hips. In the space of a moment, how states alter. Betrothals expand beyond slums, suburbs & hoods. My worn & pale videos. The Breadcrumbs widget will appear here on the published site.
The Tale of the Falling Fish Rope walkers are blessed:
They walk not only on the ground —Patimat Ramazanova, Poetess That evening, a fish fell from the sky. It was a small sturgeon, bloodied at the gills. From her window, Pascha could see it like a silver lung in the dust, and the moon of its sleepless eye. Pasha believed in omens. In the twilight, the Caucasus Mountains were silhouetted across the sky like a dark, raucous sea poised to crest. |