Most discussed stories

Birding

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Even mockingbirds are scarce;

The Sickness of your Genius

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This is not about you Although you are stone cold and sexy

ekphrastic and somatic verses

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in clotted abattoirs where Sorley saw: / no animals shorn of their skins and flesh / could spy with envy the men killing them.

Have You Seen Me?

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It’s as she reaches into the fridge for the carton of half-and-half with the grainy waxy photo of the little girl—Last Seen 10/2/06—that the memory surfaces: “Hey. That’s mine.”

Jeering the Opera

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The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 15

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—Jesus, a snoring cat. No wonder Alex put this cat outside.

Vintage Orlando

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"Benny can't come over anymore." I was 12. Latchkey kid, but we didn't call it that. Mom working in another town. Dad working in another town. My brother. 2. My responsibility. "Why? Why not?"

Muffled

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A poem not about fog written in fog with an erasable pen.

The Nightly Dance

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The electricity animates my body into myclonic dance. I do not rest. I dance with the demons; I dance with Nijinsky rage. I dance with the fury of Saint Vitus and his wooden cross. My shoes are fashioned with my own fear, tanned and stretched over my feet

Born in 1991

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Sometimes I think living in a house with so many rooms / you can get lost just making your way to the fridge / should be enough. I chastise myself for wanting more.

Between Love and Hate

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“There is a fine line between love and hatred.” This was what his closest friend, Bob Sanders, had said to him many years ago. And it had finally and irrevocably proven to be so.

The Death of Childhood Heroes (or "Roadkill")

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We were pushing ninety down the highway through a stretch of what rightfully should have been called the Badlands. We were both absorbed and coping with the rapidly escalating stages of desperation and so neither of us noticed when the yellow figure stepped…

Smooth and Crunchy

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No freebies. You want to read it, you have to read all of it.

Vestiges

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Even the fruit from the nearby orchard (which I, in part, nourish) batters my stone to rot.

Southbound

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Maggie leaned her forehead against the cool glass of the Greyhound bus window. Over the river and through the woods, she thought watching the snow west of Interstate 95 melt away into skinny pines and palmettos. Brunswick 2, Jacksonville 70, slid by riding a …

Aftermath

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They waited not a moment longer than was necessary But moved right in and Began their loathsome ch

Apollo (2/2 - sections 3-5)

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III. Through wheelwind crypts of mystery, through…

The Tesseracts

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From 'Excelsior' (fifth section) - a poem in 9 parts. So this is what begins at thirty? Thirty-five, And waiting. Those make love with water mildly, they That sink and skim the tide's meridian fingers: Brown swans that bob the blue orb's plumbing sheer. So this has…

KING KONG’S OWN STORY(1)

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The pulsing of her little life. I sniff my fingers, deep sniff, ummmmm! Again! Deep back in my mind, like Momma smelled, spicy and ripe.

Scrambled Eggs and Sympathy Cards

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We spent that entire winter with shaky hands and shrunken egos.

Trailer Park T'ai Chi Brings Wisdom of Orient to Midwest

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He adopts a stance known as Part the Wild Horse’s Mane but calls it a different name--the Part the Hair of the Skanky Barmaid for a Bleachjob position.

another love letter

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Pinnacles

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Pinnacles State Park lying on our backs stoned on hash around a campfire looking up at the clear see-through blue green stars to the other side of the universe I know now you are out there I float up to within 2

Rules, Laws, and Restrictions: The New Society

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#1. No chocolate or dessert ads of any kind after 8 p.m. #2. No names such as Wild Ferret, Backhoe, or Bunny Bacon allowed on the internet after hours. #3. No Smoky Motor Cars It’s the New Society. All will be well, after dark. Remember, only the

Bendable

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“You're bendable,” he said, and then there was this silence as we looked into the space in front of us. I understood what he meant right off and thought it a gift to speak to someone that did not get the words exactly right, but in not doing so, got…

Paradelle

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A dying man I'll wake, before the dawn; A dying man I'll wake, before the dawn May come and send me far away to sleep. May, come and send me far away to sleep; Before the dawn I'll wake, a dying man: Come, send me far to sleep, May, and away. …

French Trains

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When I sit in the front-facing seat beside him, I feel him flinch a little and stiffen, not from fear but from aggression.

Kraków Correspondence

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The SS and Gestapo began rounding us up, at least those who aren’t registered, those without yellow cards, today. Rumor has it they got at least 1,000 and took them to the camp, to the barracks. I tried not to watch and only listened, only heard some of t

Free

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The print is not ideal, it's true.

The Child's Veil

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You said yes