Most discussed stories

The Messenger

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Sophie didn't stop for lunch when she worked. She showed up first in the morning and worked through until the last package was delivered. She pedaled from building to building and walked quickly, at just shy…

Love Sick

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Love is a strong word ... When you could have been enough.

Brand

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Nobody buying...

The Noise

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I'm hearing a noise. I can't see it. It's hiding and seems to be coming from the other side of the creek. With boots on I slowly wade across. The water makes its light lapping sounds. Reaching the bank, I search for the noise. It must have a face, suntanned and warm, that I…

The Good Farmer

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He leans in close then, close enough that when he speaks, his words tiptoe out and tuck me in.

What's It To You

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Oh I'm melting all right, into a foul vapor rising from a dead volcano, not even able to spit fire, but only cold old frozen rock like dribbles of putrid plasma.

Achieving Inner Peace without facebook

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There was an empty box on his facebook page asking to be filled in with, “What’s on your mind?” He thought. "Hair?"

Tons

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Drink tons of water they keep telling me...

The Accidental Voyeur

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He had wanted to lick lucidity, curl his tongue and take it back inside his mouth, curl it all the way down his throat, let it bulge inside his neck, feel it snake into his stomach, and come out into the netherworlds with warmth and satisfaction.

At the Cafe

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The light on his face from a lamp, felt hat with a black band scrunched down, the light on his face as though thrown there, the nose creating a strong shadow, with dark, straight eyebrows under the hat, red and orange beard. Leaning forwar

Summer Is An Itch

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Underwater your eyes collapseand your feet touch decayed leavesand soft sand at the lake's bottom, the texture of tenderized flesh,maybe an intestineYou spring to the surface tofind your skull met by waterflies, and their limbstweak your peaceOn the shore your…

Startle Reflex

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I’m decades in and it hasn’t gone away. In all other respects, I am normal. Life is hard, but I’m not complaining. The thing is, I am in a constant state of falling.

The Optimist

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If people were more loyal to me we wouldn't be having all these problems.

Mississippi Burning

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“There are no inhibitions in here,” the postman shouted, gesturing at the dance floor with his Marlboro Light, the glowing tip aimed at a woman in a taut skirt. Leaning far forward, her hands nearly touching the plywood floor, she planted her feet and beg

Abecedarian inspired by Bill Yarrow

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Despite what the bible says, Shadrach and Meshach had no third brother named Abednego. To pay for his cello lessons, Yo-Yo Ma worked the subways of New York as a busker. Just chill. After Sal went into witness protection, he yearned for a job at the art…

Cattle Crossing

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"You wantin' one of them kittens? If we can't give 'em away we're gonna drown 'em. We got too many."

(Platter of) Figs and Oranges (Set to a Warped Organ Fanfare from Long Ago)

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Lonely kids only want this thing to go away and stay away. To not be lonely anymore. The lonely, uncool Kids have learned to be absolutely Still in the moment. Who does this fall to? They Haven't read enough Vonnegut for your liking? David Foster…

An Orphan of Fire

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I break your flesh and make music on the harp of your bones.

The Sunlight of the Mind

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The nerves are birds that guide us to feeling the loop and lift of reverie.

It's All in Your Head

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The terms of a broken heart, I guess I nevergot to read them. But they must besomething awful, something numbing, something no sane personwould ever agree to. You're already on the vergeof becoming nothing I can remember without a photograph beingshoved in my face. Like a…

The Marriott Hotel, Downtown Brooklyn

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There was a time when she could quell the loathing that Fred inspired in her. She could force it down. Back then, for instance, when they’d been in counseling, the ball of hatred had only been a little, overripe orange - squishy and occasionally mushed

The Man Who Lived Amongst the Cannibals

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“Ah Willie! Ah my boy! You poor sweet faced youth. Gone now! Our memories, Willie, our memories will haunt us forever with your laughter, your joy, your enduring excuses, your misspellings & badly slanted penmanship. Oh Willie. My boy. Gone & gone f

The Fine Madness

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A phrase, a sentence, a stanza,/ sounds among the sums and lists/ and starts a scratched cascade/ of syllables and other approximations--

Summer, 1995.

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I am no different to her, living seven days ahead of myself, looking forward to looking back, as we Irish do so fondly

79 AD

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No CNN to sing obliteration,/ only Pliny the Younger/ to scratch what fell

Don't Touch

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Frank must have said "don't touch" about a million times over the course of the day

Farming, A Handbook (for Wendell Berry)

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out here the land/speaks in Quaker silence

Wonkie Eye

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The bad optical, crossed or dead or lazy or stray

Red Brick

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The child could hear frogs chorusing outside and she wanted to listen only to that. Inside her grandfather gasped for air and she tried to keep her eyes normal as he smiled at her and put the mask back on. She did not want him to see how much she felt like running…

December 15, 2012

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Already, I can see that, whenever Harold moves, some of his soul escapes, like an accidental exhalation, like breath on powder.