Writings by Esteban A. Martinez, poetry, fiction, rants, speculation and whatever else we want to call writing
Monday, January 30, 2006
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Where are you? by esteban a martinez
you will never hear my words brute tongue did not mean what it said i did not say that i am not good with words you will never hea...
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Maxine crushes cookies into crumbs for pie crust, stares at the green station wagon through her kitchen window; cries. The car -- with crack...
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After I walked out of my bathroom, I noticed my double sitting in the living-room chair I usually occupy. I walked to my kitchen, adjacent t...
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Wind Chapter One 2 days since christmas. listen to me good. the horse had giant nostrils shooting steam in t...
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