February 2011
31 posts
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The hummingbird’s wings were removed, its chest opened and excavated, and the snipped wings were placed inside, and the chest sewn back up.
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11:46pm. At a bar with my editor going over the final manuscript for a PLEASE DON’T LEAVE ME reissue. About a week or so from design phase.
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I opened the door and left the house that morning feeling a new sense of security and reality, accepting the fact that my wife was dead.
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“Like at the bottom of the grave,” she said to me, poking my arm. She tossed her books down on the bed and stared glumly at my wall clock.
Panic swept the room and out of instinct we let go of our friends and the circle was broken. One dozen roses to the pale, feverish princess.
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I fell for the dear prince tremendously, the way he danced so effortlessly in the ravine across the tumble and tangle of fallen cardinals.
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4:04pm. Working on photography, a new limited edition poster and a special new project to be announced in about a month. Drinking beer too.
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