bobbiego

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
CollectionAfter the Ashes bobbiego012 years 1 week ago
CollectionUnordered Tales bobbiego012 years 1 week ago
CollectionThe Roxie Poems bobbiego012 years 1 week ago
CollectionLife in a Small Town bobbiego012 years 1 week ago
StoryWho Speaks for the Albatross? bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryWeathering bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryWeeping of Trees bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryWatching the Broncos bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryYou took only one second bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryVictim bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryWyoming Skies bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryWorrying about Me bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryThere are no overs bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryRoxie Hides in Amish Country with Phoebe, Yippee and a Bottle of Black Ink bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryNOT SO BRIEF BROOKLYN RANTINGS bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryThe Birth of Bebop Miles and Charlie 1948 bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryMy D I V O R C E Become Final Today bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryRoxie Does the Internet bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryRoxie Has Harlan Ellison Dreams bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryRoxie Ponders Philosophically, but She ain't no Bentham bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryRoxie and Biff bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryPassion bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryPull the Plug bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryMy Goodness Sakes bobbiego012 years 1 month ago
StoryThe End bobbiego012 years 1 month ago

My stories

Cherry

I Missed the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics

I was born four decades tardy of being a beat generation icon,

The Birth of Bebop Miles and Charlie 1948

Wearing clothes way to hip for the cities brand of frigidity, the icy whip of Chicago's notorious winter lashing through their coats, they still came to play at the Argyle Club

My D I V O R C E Become Final Today

Chalk dust memories are running down the creek, washing away any love words I ever dared to speak
Cherry

Roxie Does the Internet

She had visited every internet site she found interesting at least a dozen times, received a plethora of email from people unknown, peddling everything from paintings to painkillers, and she dabbled on the poetry boards.

Roxie Has Harlan Ellison Dreams

At first she blamed the new strange wine that had grown increasingly popular with people like her, those lost somewhere in the land of the pale horse.

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