I stood behind the stacks in the library looking for a book. Suddenly I noticed someone come around the corner and go down the aisle beside the one I was on. I watched them through the stacks. They were a bit odd looking. But in a nice way. Certainly a nice way. I couldn’t quite turn away since there was something so different about them.
Liz
I lay my head on your stomach, and hear the air circulate through your lungs; I hear your heart beat like the sound of approaching thunder.
Stacks of cards?! Or stacks of bills? At this point in my life, I feel like the bills are stacking more than anything. There’s also something about smoke stacks… and the lack of functioning they’re doing these days. Somehow, this all just makes me sad. Maybe it’s my mood or maybe it’s today, but stacks just isn’t making me feel any better.
Courtney
Stacks of paper, loaded on my kitchen shelf. They provoke me in the way that, I think, I should really be doing something else. Feelings of doubts, preoccupations about the future fill my head, and I suffocate. I don’t know what to do, but sit and stare at the the stacks.
Marina
it’s hard to search a needle in a stacks of hay.
it’s hard to search an old book in a stacks of book, like in my room.
Paper is stacking behind my eyelids. Intangible paper but paper nonetheless. Paper of my identity within the next few years. Paper of reality–my own tangible realness, yet it’s as thin as linen and it feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
stacks on deck patron on ice. or stacks of firewood, next to a fire.
Fe
There were stacks and stacks of books everywhere. The bookcases were jam packed and more books were arriving regularly. The sad truth was that most of them were never read, just loved from afar.
Carol Bailey Floyd
stacks can be of anything that’s structural
it can mean a building of something unusual
unusual yet something so spectacular
to the unseen eye it may be nothing
but if you look past all of its flaws of falling
it’s something of it’s own kind
Vanessa
the bills were tempting, but officer jones didn’t touch a single one. his kids were hungry and he needed a mortgage payment. but honor is more expensive than green.
Jack Monroe
stacks?
i hoping for something more inspirational,
something that really got my mind flowing with ideas,
something maybe a little different.
stacks of books in the library?
stacks of clothes in the laundry room?
now, you don’t see any tears dropping
or wheels turning after that,
do you?
There are stacks of books all over my room. My bookshelves are not lined neatly, the books are piled in teetering stacks all over the shelves and the floor. All over my room. The shelves are overflowing, piles on top of piles, leaning against walls and dressers, taking up more space than anything else.
stacks of books, stacks of cookies, cookie stacks! stacks of pancakes. dripping with syrup. i had pancakes this morning, delicious! a small stack. i have a small stack of books i’m reading; dostoevsky, the world without us, blood bread and poetry… good stuff. stacks and stacks.
okay still more time? i’m not sure what this is about but i’m writing about stacks
Hayley Bonsteel
stacks makes me think about all of the rap songs that say stacks on deck .. like, what exactly does that mean? stacks of money? i would assume so.. because the only other type of stacks that i can think of are hay stacks.. and that’s not very exciting is it? stacks is an interesting word…
abigail
Stacks of papers
smashed into them
they flutter around the room like butterflies
unsure of where to land
unlike your angry fists
who know exactly where to land
the places where i can feel
but no one can see
later I rebuild the
stacks of paper
Leah
Stacks of pencils will fall very quickly due to their shape. I like stacks of money, though. Those don’t fall unless there is a lot of money, in which case I would enjoy greatly. Stacks of trash is nasty, and should be taken care of. Stacks of bodies is dirty, too. I want stacks.
Genevieve
I love stacks, when they come in things I like. Stacks of boo, things to hold my fascination and envelop my mind. Magazines were never As good. Pretty pictures. Every once in a while an intriguing scent. Like the touch and feel books of my childhood
There are lots of ideas, lots of knowledge, but also lots of hurts and quits. It’s not my time right now but i’ll be sure, it’ll come by and will shape my world in its contentment. I want to die right now.
If you give me that look one more time, just one more fucking time, I’m going to smack it right off your fucking face. Then, I’m going to shit all over your stacks of papers that you leave all over the damn place.
ass
Piles of objects. Tower or mounds of anything you can imagine. Stacks can occur physically obviously or mentally in your own mind you can create stacks of your emotions, your fears, or even your desires.
jeff
I constantly shelve stacks of books. I’m a library page. We call the upstairs shelves the “stacks”. And when we mention them we always are groaning.
Brittany Pedersen
I just got distracted by a text message so I don’t have much time. Stacks of money. Stacks of cards. Stacks rhymes with racks. I like the song racks on racks on racks. Racks of clothing. I bought jeans today, and nail polish.
The stacks of books were shifting eerily in the moonlight. I felt as though they were watching me make my way through the darkened aisles. The floorboards were creaking as I walked, but I heard nothing but the wind outside the windows.
Kait
stacks of paper surround her; skyscrapers in the city of her study. she cannot stop now. her pen is running out but her ideas continue to flow, scribbling and jotting and writing such insignificant details only a writer would care to notice.
The stacks of paper were piled high in the room. The desk was covered in these giant piles, while the staff of the office ignored them and walked past. Would these papers ever get looked at? Weren’t they important? No one knew yet, but the stacks remained untouched.
Jenna
There were many many stacks of newspapers on the stand one morning. Front cover… I was placed. It told a story or murders and what not but there i was.. Front page, I made the college basketball team and they are fighting over me. For once i felt special.
rachel
The stacks of benches piled miles into the air above the park. Thousands upon thousands of metal park benches, no time to clean them up. Mountain climbers became ecstatic about the new mountain climbing opportunities.
Jeremiah Pena
Stacks and stacks of books … surrounded by vast, copious amounts of knowledge, information, and imagination. How can I not spend the day perusing the library when there’s so much input? Input .. input .. input …
jeran
The stacks of books
covered with dust
breathe out the poetry
within their texts
perfuming the musty air
with their sweet knowledge
Stacks are when things fall in place. They are all in towers that can reach space, but never come close. Some make stacks; some make them fall. I watch stacks and calculate how tall.
Uriah
stacks and stacks of wonderful books filled with worlds to visit in my head. The magical smell of old books stacked ten feet tall
One look was all it took. I didn’t want to look away. Even when the cart next over creaked as it turned and caught on wood, I didn’t want to. But I had my book in my hands, and had no more excuses. So I turned away with my fantasy, away from my real one.
They were glorious. the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She knew, at that moment, that she had reached the epitome of paradise; she gladly spend the rest of her life devouring stacks and stacks of pancakes.
Vanessa
Stacks of books. That sounds absolutely lovely. Books and books and books. Right now I am working on rereading the Series of Unfortunate Events. Now there’s a stack of books. Also, it’s been a pretty good decision so far.
Kaylyn
There were several of them, huge towers. They reached the clouds they were so high, with their stacks releasing a thick fog of smoke. On an ordinary day, you could see the smoke billow from a great distance.
Troy
I see stacks of wood. My family buys them every year. In september. Really? Yes, we live in Park City, where its likely that it will snow earlier than september. We use the wood for fires and I miss it.
Ellie
I didn’t know I could sprint through the tightly and erratically spaced library stacks until I was fleeing from the homicidal demidemon. I wished I’d had Ody with me; he could always hear them coming a mile away, even indoors.
The stacks of pancakes loomed before the two of them. She looked at her watch. “It’s two in the morning now, good sir.”
He grinned. “A long night ahead!” He grabbed his fork and attacked.
I stood behind the stacks in the library looking for a book. Suddenly I noticed someone come around the corner and go down the aisle beside the one I was on. I watched them through the stacks. They were a bit odd looking. But in a nice way. Certainly a nice way. I couldn’t quite turn away since there was something so different about them.
I lay my head on your stomach, and hear the air circulate through your lungs; I hear your heart beat like the sound of approaching thunder.
Stacks of cards?! Or stacks of bills? At this point in my life, I feel like the bills are stacking more than anything. There’s also something about smoke stacks… and the lack of functioning they’re doing these days. Somehow, this all just makes me sad. Maybe it’s my mood or maybe it’s today, but stacks just isn’t making me feel any better.
Stacks of paper, loaded on my kitchen shelf. They provoke me in the way that, I think, I should really be doing something else. Feelings of doubts, preoccupations about the future fill my head, and I suffocate. I don’t know what to do, but sit and stare at the the stacks.
it’s hard to search a needle in a stacks of hay.
it’s hard to search an old book in a stacks of book, like in my room.
Paper is stacking behind my eyelids. Intangible paper but paper nonetheless. Paper of my identity within the next few years. Paper of reality–my own tangible realness, yet it’s as thin as linen and it feels like it’s slipping through my fingers.
stacks on deck patron on ice. or stacks of firewood, next to a fire.
There were stacks and stacks of books everywhere. The bookcases were jam packed and more books were arriving regularly. The sad truth was that most of them were never read, just loved from afar.
stacks can be of anything that’s structural
it can mean a building of something unusual
unusual yet something so spectacular
to the unseen eye it may be nothing
but if you look past all of its flaws of falling
it’s something of it’s own kind
the bills were tempting, but officer jones didn’t touch a single one. his kids were hungry and he needed a mortgage payment. but honor is more expensive than green.
stacks?
i hoping for something more inspirational,
something that really got my mind flowing with ideas,
something maybe a little different.
stacks of books in the library?
stacks of clothes in the laundry room?
now, you don’t see any tears dropping
or wheels turning after that,
do you?
There are stacks of books all over my room. My bookshelves are not lined neatly, the books are piled in teetering stacks all over the shelves and the floor. All over my room. The shelves are overflowing, piles on top of piles, leaning against walls and dressers, taking up more space than anything else.
stacks of books, stacks of cookies, cookie stacks! stacks of pancakes. dripping with syrup. i had pancakes this morning, delicious! a small stack. i have a small stack of books i’m reading; dostoevsky, the world without us, blood bread and poetry… good stuff. stacks and stacks.
okay still more time? i’m not sure what this is about but i’m writing about stacks
stacks makes me think about all of the rap songs that say stacks on deck .. like, what exactly does that mean? stacks of money? i would assume so.. because the only other type of stacks that i can think of are hay stacks.. and that’s not very exciting is it? stacks is an interesting word…
Stacks of papers
smashed into them
they flutter around the room like butterflies
unsure of where to land
unlike your angry fists
who know exactly where to land
the places where i can feel
but no one can see
later I rebuild the
stacks of paper
Stacks of pencils will fall very quickly due to their shape. I like stacks of money, though. Those don’t fall unless there is a lot of money, in which case I would enjoy greatly. Stacks of trash is nasty, and should be taken care of. Stacks of bodies is dirty, too. I want stacks.
I love stacks, when they come in things I like. Stacks of boo, things to hold my fascination and envelop my mind. Magazines were never As good. Pretty pictures. Every once in a while an intriguing scent. Like the touch and feel books of my childhood
And Reimer stacks his pads!
There are lots of ideas, lots of knowledge, but also lots of hurts and quits. It’s not my time right now but i’ll be sure, it’ll come by and will shape my world in its contentment. I want to die right now.
If you give me that look one more time, just one more fucking time, I’m going to smack it right off your fucking face. Then, I’m going to shit all over your stacks of papers that you leave all over the damn place.
Piles of objects. Tower or mounds of anything you can imagine. Stacks can occur physically obviously or mentally in your own mind you can create stacks of your emotions, your fears, or even your desires.
I constantly shelve stacks of books. I’m a library page. We call the upstairs shelves the “stacks”. And when we mention them we always are groaning.
I just got distracted by a text message so I don’t have much time. Stacks of money. Stacks of cards. Stacks rhymes with racks. I like the song racks on racks on racks. Racks of clothing. I bought jeans today, and nail polish.
The stacks of books were shifting eerily in the moonlight. I felt as though they were watching me make my way through the darkened aisles. The floorboards were creaking as I walked, but I heard nothing but the wind outside the windows.
stacks of paper surround her; skyscrapers in the city of her study. she cannot stop now. her pen is running out but her ideas continue to flow, scribbling and jotting and writing such insignificant details only a writer would care to notice.
The stacks of paper were piled high in the room. The desk was covered in these giant piles, while the staff of the office ignored them and walked past. Would these papers ever get looked at? Weren’t they important? No one knew yet, but the stacks remained untouched.
There were many many stacks of newspapers on the stand one morning. Front cover… I was placed. It told a story or murders and what not but there i was.. Front page, I made the college basketball team and they are fighting over me. For once i felt special.
The stacks of benches piled miles into the air above the park. Thousands upon thousands of metal park benches, no time to clean them up. Mountain climbers became ecstatic about the new mountain climbing opportunities.
Stacks and stacks of books … surrounded by vast, copious amounts of knowledge, information, and imagination. How can I not spend the day perusing the library when there’s so much input? Input .. input .. input …
The stacks of books
covered with dust
breathe out the poetry
within their texts
perfuming the musty air
with their sweet knowledge
Stacks are when things fall in place. They are all in towers that can reach space, but never come close. Some make stacks; some make them fall. I watch stacks and calculate how tall.
stacks and stacks of wonderful books filled with worlds to visit in my head. The magical smell of old books stacked ten feet tall
One look was all it took. I didn’t want to look away. Even when the cart next over creaked as it turned and caught on wood, I didn’t want to. But I had my book in my hands, and had no more excuses. So I turned away with my fantasy, away from my real one.
i made stacks out of them. i didnt know what to with so many, i got bored of them, kept them in stacks. went out to find some new ones.
They were glorious. the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She knew, at that moment, that she had reached the epitome of paradise; she gladly spend the rest of her life devouring stacks and stacks of pancakes.
Stacks of books. That sounds absolutely lovely. Books and books and books. Right now I am working on rereading the Series of Unfortunate Events. Now there’s a stack of books. Also, it’s been a pretty good decision so far.
There were several of them, huge towers. They reached the clouds they were so high, with their stacks releasing a thick fog of smoke. On an ordinary day, you could see the smoke billow from a great distance.
I see stacks of wood. My family buys them every year. In september. Really? Yes, we live in Park City, where its likely that it will snow earlier than september. We use the wood for fires and I miss it.
I didn’t know I could sprint through the tightly and erratically spaced library stacks until I was fleeing from the homicidal demidemon. I wished I’d had Ody with me; he could always hear them coming a mile away, even indoors.