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Mara Buck's Blog

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Sep.12.2009
      Kurt Vonnegut looked old.  He shuffled by my booth at the antiques show, eyes bleary, a bit of the ancient walrus about him.  A walrus in a rumpled London Fog, neither stylish nor especially interesting.  I had only rhinestone jewelry to offer.  Not walrus fodder at all and he moved on.  It...
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Sep.11.2009
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Smoke spirals four hundred miles away.I smell death through the television.No skills to medicate,no strong arms nora stronger heartto attack the carnage.I draw.I am an artist.It is all I can do.It will never be enough. I make yellow linesfor souls ascending.Not enough.Not fast enough.With enough...
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Sep.10.2009
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The Puppy-From-Hell also enjoys the floral arts, beheading each rose, lily and aster with piranha precision. She spits out the slightly-sodden blossoms for my arranging pleasure. There are now many, many crystal goblets adorning my house, each floating a bedraggled bloom. All inherited from...
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Sep.09.2009
For want of a bulb
     Some would say I have the perfect life here in Maine.  Four seasons of natural beauty, abundant privacy, and a relatively inexpensive lifestyle that enables me to write and paint, surrounded by books and art.  A beautiful purebred dog.  A Volvo.  Ah, but sometimes, all is not as it seems...
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Sep.09.2009
     So I’m sitting here in the idyllic countryside of a Maine late August morning, leafing through a rather elderly issue of New York Magazine, checking out an article prosaically entitled “How Loud.. .”  which offers up a handy guide to decibels for jackhammers, taxi horns, and all that city...
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