Most discussed stories

Truth at a Bonsai Booth

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I envisioned bound feet of ancient Asian women who wore embroidered slippers that hid grotesque disfigurements.

My Heroes Now Are Robots

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I understand why Warhol said/ “I want to be a machine.”/ Forget this sorry clay.

Heart of Hearts

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In half-dreams she saw a pale alchemist kneeling before a stitched together abomination, witchcraft and science merged, mocking God’s fire.

Erasing Traherne

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19. You never know yourself till you know the dust. 51. Treasures are the ligatures between our wants and love. 33. Truth is able to turn one's stomach.

In a Pinch

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His worst nightmare had come true. He wasn't wearing green and all of the other kids were.

Bibliophagy

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he knows that his wife knows. she can smell the adverbs on his tongue in the mornings. but he cannot get through another evening in that house without consonants.

Scottish Independence

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with peaty aromatics, opened,/ and a welcomed sting, swallowed,

Books

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It sometimes happens a student remains a friend long after you both have abandon academe.

Call Me

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The woman took a small note card from her purse and wrote on it. She then stood, handed the card to the doctor, and said, “Call me.”

Realizing I Have Not Moved From My Bed for Two Days

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Quite frankly you are ruining my life. / I know you don’t mean to, but you are.

Beneath the Rise and Murmur of Your Voice

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Beneath the rise and murmur of your voicethere lies a hush more rapid than the silence meets within your eyes; the ghosts of cloudfall also meet them there. Your tongue has murmurs more than I can hear just now, for here my ears are met with something…

Ponchatoula Tulip

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You could call it love.

The girl, whose hair was red, green and yellow

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There were trees where I lived and clean pavement

Mosaic

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MOSAIC Your eyes coal-rimmed, busted, burned by betrayal. You and I, knee to knuckle, skinny with disorders and blurred around our edges. Challenged by our experience and the ash of past-love dusting the grate, the state, the…

Warthearm

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‘Look, look, Quark. Look here. Warthearm. A shiny warthearm.’ Maz was on his elbows and knees, his fat ass sticking out in their air like two cannon-balls ready to be shot off. He was peering at a long, shapeless earthworm, its skin translucent and i

Memories of the Beach

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The smell of Coppertone Suntan Lotion always brings back memories of the beach. I remember you rubbing it on my stomach and you kept moving lower and lower. I had on a bikini bottom (very daring) and you rubbed your finger all along the rim of it just a

Amelia

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Every time she tries to sleep they come; legions of small armored things scuttle claws aloft across the purple sand as soon as she stops moving.

Too Late

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He brought me kisses from New York.

C.S.I. #14

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I had dreams of being permeated with the heat of Caramelized sisters. A declawed cat kept creeping along my apartment walls.

juvenile haiku

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leaves of a season/float into a brook among/bubbles fit to burst.

The Celebrity

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"He doesn't have a parish," I said. "He works in a hospital in the East Bay. He told me that if I were in that hospital and I woke up and saw him, I was in big trouble."

Je Suis Vincent

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I saw Vincent one day, sitting at a café table that was situated right next to the quays of the Seine, with another artist by the name of Bernard. Vincent had his back to me, and he was leaning forward in his usual hyper-excitement, gesturing wildly

From The Doctor, With Love

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I love how you touch me, your hands warm on my shape...

Smashed Idol

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He was the kind of man that I would rather have declawed than date, and then leave him on a gurney, helpless and anaesthetized. Cliff Eames had made me feel that way since we were teenagers. He would never be helpless. …

Anger Management

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How many extinctions can we claim?/ Is someone keeping score?/ Somebody needs to keep the score

Funhouse

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beatings and tear gas

Estella

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Everyone loves a story of love unrequited. But what about the stories of the unrequited lovee?

Lost Clouds

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This is a nice illusion, here with you. The world Is meant to fill your eyes. You remind me of Everything right now. This is a nice illusion, here with You. It's all morning light. The wind playing with your Hair lifts my spirits, too. Seagulls…

Thirteen Ways of Nevermore: Arkansas, 12/31/2010

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MIDNIGHT all day. Bleak December. A chiaroscuro, snowing blackbirds. (Pas de cinq mille, in B minor.)

Let me tell you one last story

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Let’s be honest, you were cheating on your girlfriend, and I would’ve slept with anyone