Steve

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryNew in America 1 Steve613 years 8 months ago
Storynew hampshire spring waits Steve413 years 9 months ago
StoryNew Hampshire Spring is... Steve313 years 10 months ago
StorySeoul Garden Steve213 years 10 months ago
StoryHypocrite Steve213 years 10 months ago
StoryFirst Love Steve214 years 1 week ago
StoryIn wanting so much to be loved Steve814 years 1 week ago
StoryThe Tender Buds of April Silver Spun Sand3014 years 10 months ago
StoryMichael Jackson's Early Demise Steve315 years 7 months ago
StoryGrowl Steve215 years 8 months ago
StoryDrips of emotion hint at Steve415 years 8 months ago
StoryThe Game Steve215 years 8 months ago
StoryMary Steve515 years 8 months ago
StorySong of David Steve215 years 8 months ago
StoryCome Away With Me Silver Spun Sand2115 years 9 months ago
StoryMe, and Her with the Piercings Silver Spun Sand1615 years 9 months ago
StoryImpressions of South Korea: Conversations, Thoughts, Etc. Steve215 years 9 months ago
StoryImpressions of South Korea: Work Ethic 4 Steve215 years 9 months ago
StoryImpressions of South Korea: Work Ethic 1 Steve415 years 9 months ago
StoryNudely Explore: impressions of S. Korea Steve215 years 9 months ago
StoryIV Steve215 years 9 months ago
StoryIII Steve315 years 9 months ago
StoryII Steve515 years 9 months ago
StoryGabriel Freed Steve315 years 9 months ago

My stories

Waist Land 2

A Game of Guesses Jack keeps on giggling when I eye him. He keeps on staring at me when we eat.

The Waist Land 1

T.S. Eliot Wasteland translated into America's current waistland.

Song of David

O Lord, I beseech you to forgive. I am your most loyal servant. I have sinned. I have gravely broken your words. Heal me of this wound... the mad curls of her luscious hair,

You are

nothing like you are outside, splendor and skill, the exquisite excellence of the stars, burning with questions. your breath, it is one after the other

Into the Silence

into the mouth of silence (her voice is rich with pain, rich with hesitation, made deep with years of longing, wishing to be real) into the lips of knowing one cannot deal with all things

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