Author: KCF
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Flying on a Broken Wing (premium)
Audio Members can listen here: She was a beautiful child born the day the river Shannon overflowedA body of water that could not be containedwas her nameHer beautylike Venuswas more poignantfor a missing wingHer burden was to be born into a world of silence deeply veined by things unsaidShe danced She drank She laughed She…
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Skipping Beneath the Night Sky
Let me read it to you! Premium members have access to the audio version. Not a member yet? Become a member here > She skips down the alley willy-nilly, dodging potholes and puddles. Her footsteps echo between the concrete walls and rolling metal security shutters. In the circle of light cast by a streetlamp, she…
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Skipping Beneath the Night Sky (premium)
Audio Members, Listen here: She skips down the alley willy-nilly, dodging potholes and puddles. Her footsteps echo between the concrete walls and rolling metal security shutters. In the circle of light cast by a streetlamp, she leaps suddenly into the air and twirls, arms joyously flailing. Her chin is raised up and she smiles to…
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Dos Negronis at La Biela
Let me read it to you. Premium members have access to the audio version. Not a member yet? Become a member > I don’t usually leave bars dancing in the streets. But then again, these are not usual times. Perhaps it was my afternoon ballet class and the glee of my exhausted, pulsing muscles. Perhaps…
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Dos Negronis at La Biela (premium)
I don’t usually leave bars dancing in the streets. But then again, these are not usual times. Perhaps it was my afternoon ballet class and the glee of my exhausted, pulsing muscles. Perhaps it was the waiter at La Biela who hung around our table and wanted to chat. Or the way he lulled me…
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Nurture
By Kevin Carrel Footer It is winter in Buenos Aires. Sniffles and puffer jackets are out in force. Laborers coming in from distant settlements on commutes that started long before dawn stomp the ground waiting for their next bus, the fake fur of their parka hoods shuddering with each stomp while they rub their hands…
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Nurture (premium)
Let me read it to you (premium members only): By Kevin Carrel Footer It is winter in Buenos Aires. Sniffles and puffer jackets are out in force. Laborers coming in from distant settlements on commutes that started long before dawn stomp the ground waiting for their next bus, the fake fur of their parka hoods…
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The Meaning of Nothing
Let me read it to you: I am walking down a Buenos Aires sidewalk in scuffed shoes that I had intended to polish but never got around to. A whiff of diesel exhaust from an idling truck yanks me from this place and thrusts me into another where I am shivering outside a truckstop looking…
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Resurrection
listen: I was born luminous And remember the light That burned within But one day that light Was snuffed out Left to smoulder Now there are so many things I would like to believe But can’t It is in the darkness Sadly, that I find The lasting truths Do not be afraid of the dark…