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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 11-June 23:51:44 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 157303
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => City of the Open Hand
[time] => 2010-02-06 01:42:27
[hometext] => The somber silence of a small town, passed through one afternoon
[bodytext] => In this city of the open hand, the orange light suffuses into a dream. Suffering rain, the slick stung streets shudder and his as I wind through these common highways. There is the small town, at the edge of the railroad tracks, where the old men emerge mid-morning from automobiles and shake their dusky heads in some confusion over the general way that history has gone. And down in the city, the time sits sullen, and passes slowly, like the small tick tock of stone movement. [comments] => 2 [counter] => 168 [topic] => 74 [informant] => catapult57 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 8 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => surreal )
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