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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Thursday, July 2, 2015
water to boil
not unlike waiting
for water to boil
that never does,
you stand
in the reflection
of your own life,
and wait for things
to get done,
to be just right.
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sail away
you seem tired
the new world
the big white hat
the race track
let's stop at two
around and around
ravioli
passwords
the collector
carving a path
the big winner
together
the medicine cabinet
it comes too soon
that's my car
the wheel
elevator baby
the daily run
a moment of truce
the falling star
full to the brim
fresh wounds
suggestions
get off the rope
there must be some way out of here
produce stand
three shots of tequila
the line is moving
turn around and go back
the empty wallet
see you later?
the early years
the dry spell
the wet spot
the new machine
the straight line
i didn't do nothing
death trap
we can get that later
coming up short
such a thing as karma
start again
the summer job
down to one lane
the lettuce lunch
it would take time
the last day of summer
the missing plate
it's down to this
waiting for what's next
community pool
pull the plug, please
locking up
fork and spoon
the white suv
letting go
my mayan ruins
invention
i'm listening
to be found
it's kind of late
deep in the heart of texas
the important list
three squares
on planet earth
let's begin
the clean house
the six week plan
everything the same
lighter than air
the expatriate
a new dog
table for one
it's raining here
the yellow mg
things to use
the dancer
becoming we
inside the stone
the break out
the new map
section eight
no parking between 7 a.m and 9 p.m.
there was a time
are we almost home?
the special
the living room
be done with her
your shadow
the first time
page ten
what's fifteen per cent
alone star state
her new house
yellow bird
teacher on a burro
just a taste
basting in the sun
the fallen man
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About Me
Stephen Chute
west springfield, virginia, United States
these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
View my complete profile
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