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- The Great Excavation
- coming out in no particular order
- This town; a breathing crocodile, is a sad town…
- My grandfather on a sandglass
- what the little girl meant to say when the long-haired journalist asked: where are you from?
- The man who wrote bad poetry
- The dilemma of a poem
- a poem you read from right to left
- The federal constitution
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- coming out in no particular order eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2019/04/18/com… 18 hours ago
- This town; a breathing crocodile, is a sad town… eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2019/04/18/thi… 1 day ago
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Tag Archives: Erik Fuhrer
Anxiety entangles thinking, sits in chairs breathing. Drowned years forget beauty. Tears open eyes white behind the stuffed leopard, leaning back. Nature passed people lovely as stacks of prints, eccentric and civil. Fashionable young men preserve velvet on the hottest … Continue reading
A mottled blue feeling opened surprising heat. The world ceased to turn, which limited physical pleasure, hanging in the sun. Haunted grass dispersed, trying to juggle a kind of melancholy together with love. The saluted sparkle of electric lights tarnished … Continue reading
To interrupt a pipe, one rose slowly holding a row of small books: a pure waste of time. Progress stopped at the dance, flung back a volume at random. The screech of a fiddle filled with a kiss bound to … Continue reading
The tune hopped on left then right, holding the room in dreamy self-consciousness. Hymns became tripping pepper executed as figure-skating. Dancers shivered to criticize the most enjoyable part of the evening. A gigantic circle pricked many eyes to dawn, flushed … Continue reading
Peacocks cast purple necks nobbed with mottled powder. Laughter vows to break a jaunty tone, People bitterly peer in on arguments, conscious of inevitable dread. Curious friends speak with emotion. The next beginning beat toes to flatter a slight redness. … Continue reading
Looking-glasses splash colour between the windows, sit talking with God’s heart: smoky, stretched, rather dreary. In dark windows, invisible hands peppered the ballroom swing of the music with clasped hands. A palm tree deposited character. Trailing behind, eyes beg sympathetically, … Continue reading