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I see men assassinated around me every day. I walk through rooms of the dead, streets of the dead, cities of the dead; men without eyes, men without voices; men with manufactured feelings and standard reactions; men with newspaper brains, television souls and high school ideas.
~Charles Bukowski
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I’m going to Blackleaf Swamp I’ll be back tomorrow, Maybe. I want to see The hunting owls ride by All glassy-eyed and gloomy. I want to see Pools where the striped snakes cool The burden of their backs, Where the muskrat floats, And the lilies shiver Under the fingers of the moon. If I am a woman, and tame, Does it mean I cannot be Part bird, part beast? And if this is so, why does a wing in the air Sweep against my blood Like a small sharp oar? And if I am alive, but must die, Is it not proper to study Darkness and trees and water? Along the shore The grass is so green and fine, It feels like the love of my mother.
-Mary Oliver
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