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the cost of doing business means keeping buildings through the off season
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the placid pastel saint presides over her world always gazing up
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church literally fell apart when methodists left: its too late now
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tidal bore was less than wed hoped but clouds were lovely at least
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all that beach trash is turning into oceanside art installation
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spherical flower buds tight pink fists waiting to unfurl their beauty
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venus jupiter and the ruins are lovely this warm summer night
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window blinds pulled at odd angle throw pacifics blue light into room
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parking meters and mural help blur line between art everything else
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and so another day ends spectacularly as we hoped it would
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rocks and seaweed at damp rest as the day slides to ebony night
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sea spray on the glass served to turn the view into a water color
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things dont rust very fast out here too arid this would have taken years
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in those very last days before springs arrival nothing was yet green
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candles in cross-shaped candelabra provided churchs only light
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its a long way down to nothing: sometimes every day feels like that
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easter eggshells on the windowsill their last stop before compost bin
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calming properties of blue lured them until they forgot how to see
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things unraveling at their own pace despite our personal wishes
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would a mirror have a crack to match the one thats bisecting the wall
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a day so misty that tiny water drops clung to stems like jewels
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like a siren palm garden lounge sings out to all who are passing by
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solitary man keeps company with football and liquor bottles
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destructions despair constructions hope together battle to the end
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moon escapes clawing tree branches it always does escape doesnt it
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hanging orbs catch sun throw colors to anyone needing light today
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one of many that didnt meet expectations failure reminder
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magic about to happen but i outside alone and lonely
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those vivid color patterns are offset by one titling beer bottle
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the carnival ride had a bit of a stutter glad i was grounded
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self portrait dreams show up at this mausoleum in late afternoon
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charms: arms hearts and legs are tacked to red wooden heart hoping for lucks change
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hot dry summers will bake paint right off the wood here in new mexico
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light fixture turns blind eye concedes to darkness lets nighttime win again
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someone was fond of yellow paint but paint alone cant save walls ceilings
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inside the house: a chair skeleton skeleton of a dog outside
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a while since the scales twenty pound graduations mattered in the least
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all the blues came out that day after the welcome rainfall moved on east
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testing paint colors or censoring graffiti both are possible
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obviously the sign pre-dates the wall-mounted air conditioner
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my friend bonnie said this is abstract art in the sky shes right of course
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hotel balcony perfect perch to watch mostly nothing happening
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turquoise doors and trim seem less hopeful since fading peeling have set it
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chair working to keep door open no way to know why it would matter
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one hell of a step and an arrow plus yellow underground parking
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minimalism of blues blending together respite from winter
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the ad hoc groupings oddly formal arrangement pleasant to observe
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delicate versions of previous vibrant shades desert sun at work
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excellent arrow term of highest praise applies to this example
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pacific islands airport security is lovely in this light
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this is the best sign ever even though i dont know what its promoting
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wait what happened here three shots and in color too i hope im ok
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weathered wooded cross anchored by bits of color and a bunch of rocks
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this arrangement of crosses at a grave looks like a wrought iron crown
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obligatory iris must post at least one shot every springtime
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this thing i dont know what it is other than creepy get me out of here
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blonde madonna guards graves her calm patient face a respite from it all
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night lights at grave site comfort the living the dead may not have noticed
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hotel courtyard nice place to relax when summer sun is too much for you
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lavender midnight blue: who says deserts are just a single color
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postcard views are real making a long trip worth the effort that it took
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holiday motel nice not expensive wifi kitchens and much more
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wavy lines somehow make pointed shadows something i cant figure out
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he gave up wearing neckties when he retired but kept them anyway
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no words can enhance the south pacific night time skies why even try
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rusts lovely colors patterns can only mask the certain destruction
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on this site winning warriors ate their enemies seasoned with breadfruit
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eerie glow from night divers undulates through the clear ocean water
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a desolate place i stood on the porch to watch the road it felt right
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the day breaks gently this close to the equator days nights are equal
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abandoned drive-in lit by the glow of pink light from a waning day
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rectory roofers their ladders take them higher
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summer cabin the ants do the dishes
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lagoon at sunrise? the shadow chases its pelican
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barren trees even the tiniest twig embraced by the mist
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windfall apples bees tango to a waltz
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that foghorn bawl? calf separated from its mother
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spray art the cherry knows no bounds
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cold night the escalating heat of my old notebook
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fly fishing my thoughts untangle
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arrows of geese the puppy chases leaves on the wind
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absently choking on a sliver of lemon near-total eclipse
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twilight? a full moon between fractured branches
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at the tulip festival she holds a bouquet of dandelions
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random rain splatters on the sidewalk . . . polka dots
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yukon hike water sloshes to the beat of the bear bell
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spring rain . . . the dog's coat finer than mine
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winter solstice . . . a furlong of a dream curls inside me
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autumn sky? swaying wheat field shaping the wind
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blue sky morning the hospital huffs the only clouds
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still-life lilies residents sitting in the nursing-home lounge
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year's end? only the sound of mouse clicks from every desk
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high tide wild blackberry canes overtake the shore
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ocean swim not knowing what's beneath me
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stocking empty to the toe the spray of citrus
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autumn's last month still awaiting my inheritance
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after the rain only a few petals left with the rose
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empty restaurant all the tables candlelit
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spring again . . . a songbird's paean at dawn
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the busker buttons his collar
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