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poetry and prose by stephen chute
Friday, October 4, 2024
the inside weather
the outside
weather is meaningless
if the inside
weather
is bad.
sunshine is nothing,
nor is
a pleasant breeze,
or a soft rain.
if the inside
is full of dark wind
and heat,
thunder
and lighting.
the outside air has
nothing on what goes
on inside
of here.
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tomorrow things will change
the slow evaporation of grief
the lines will be long outside the therapist's doo...
one last request
the dopamine fix
what was on the menu
a roses neck
the red rooster behind him
the empty circles
what will we line our birdcages with now?
the brand-new Chevrolet on the block
the years are getting longer
oh those high school memories
More of Moore
there's no hesitation with her vote
a hint of mint
my new talking scale
i was raised a middle-class girl and my mother had...
the bouncing loaf of olive bread
the last place celebration
a second chance in the afterlife
a toy in every box
we've lost our way
someone i won't forget
what we want to hear
when the bath water goes cold
something i said?
we are nothing but ants
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those blue suede shoes
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my new best friend
people on boats waving
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indecisive napping
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American Thespians
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early shopping spree
as the band plays on
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the anatomy of girls
the morning fire
her husband's room
alone at 67
playing funeral
i don't want to go home
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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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