Emerald Dragon Archives

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Welcome to the Emerald Dragon Archives.  You can search (above), you can take your time going bit-by-bit below through all the posts, or you can use the categories on the right.  There are author names, post types, and genres listed as categories.  Feel free to share and comment alike, as the authors still have access to their archived stories and will love the feedback.  The new and improving Emerald Dragon is here.

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Posted on June 18, 2011 at 12:09 PM Comments comments (0)

Xavier looks down from the bridge.

John Berryman jumped from here,

He muses, noting the water, hearing

The sounds behind and below. Xavier

Looks up at the sky, sees birds, clouds.

Many reasons why some person might

Want to jump and die. Also many reasons

Not to. Xavier breathes in the air, it hits

His lungs, fresh, cool. Berryman and Henry

Were they the same? What’s in a name?

Xavier remembers reading Berryman’s...

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Posted on June 14, 2011 at 8:36 AM Comments comments (0)

Tomsin laughs to himself. Not concerning

Others or with others, but alone, a private

Joke, not shared. He looks about him, none

Seems to have heard him laugh or if they did,

Cared. He puts out his legs beneath the table,

Lights up a cigarette. The small cafe seems busy,

Voices talk, bits of conversation hang on the air

Incomplete, foreign. He sips his drink. A girl in

A group nearby looks at him and smiles. He feels

His age, aches...

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Traffic Soup (Strong Language)

Posted on June 3, 2011 at 11:30 PM Comments comments (1)

Traffic Soup

“My Mom says to never boil rolled oats with meat, especially pork” I told Sister Angelique. “She said it's not good for the stomach”

“Bah, what does your Mom know? She don't know how to cook. Look how skinny you are” Sister Angelique said to me in disgust brushing away my words like they were flies buzzing around her face. I watched as she dumped a few big handfuls of rolled oats into the gia...

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Nodmeyer remembers

Posted on June 1, 2011 at 2:37 PM Comments comments (0)

Nodmeyer remembers clearly fishing

With his father on the lake. The small

Boat, the blue box of flies and hooks.

The still water, the calm sky. Just him,

His father, the rods, and the occasional

Fish hooked and bucketed. Nodmeyer

Has no son now to fish with; he sits all

Alone in his boat, him, the sky, his rod,

And his box of hooks and flies. His son

Drowned in the lake some years back.

Suicide, some say or insinuate in hus...

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Posted on May 25, 2011 at 5:44 AM Comments comments (0)

Kentril has a job to do, has a man

To kill. He sits and selects a cigarette.

Takes his time. The French cigarette

He thinks best at this time. This his

Favourite. He lights, draws in the smoke.

The photograph of the victim he holds

Between yellowed finger and thumb.

The person’s laughing, some party scene.

Kentril rubs his thumb over the celluloid

 Face, can’t wipe off the grin, or the bright

Eyes, dim. Nothi...

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Posted on May 14, 2011 at 1:27 PM Comments comments (0)

Henry will watch girls pass

Most of the day, especially

The young ones, the blonde

Ones, the tall ones, the ones


With fine figures, the ones

Who look at him disdainfully,

The ones who smile out of pity.

He thinks he remembers their


Mothers, the same look, the

Same way of walking, the same

Disdainful gaze, the smiles of

Pity. He recalls their fathers,


Good looking guys, ta...

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Retrospective 57

Posted on May 13, 2011 at 9:15 PM Comments comments (0)

Such a little difference

The places we went

All the history I learned

The things you got to do

The things you got to see

Such a little difference

The lives we have led

All that we have become

Broken and fooled

The world thought I would win


Such a little difference

The advantages apportioned

All the history I made

The things I got to do

The things I got to see

Such a little difference


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