Most discussed stories

AN HOUR EVERY AFTERNOON

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This is the only time she feels she can be herself.

Scuffle

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Last Christmas Eve, my Nana shot my grandfather in the foot because he wouldn't stop boning the woman up the street.  So on Christmas Eve, after Nana drank a bunch of those baby-sized Miller Hi-life beers, she went upstairs, got her pistol, and said, “I'm gonna…

Quintet in a Minor Key Near the End of Time

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The one thing I believe in is collapse./ Abandoned buildings collapse. Civilizations// collapse. Financial bubbles collapse./ Stars and galaxies collapse. Falling// is something that comes quite naturally/ to puffed up things.

Gossip

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Gossip Betty Martini divorces husbands when they least expect it. On a seeming whim, she pays a visit to dear Arnold, who keeps her papers handy in his top desk drawer. She initials here and there, signs with a…

Sunday Morning Series- 6: I Love You, Man, but Hate Your God

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But if He makes you happy, stands/ as bulwark against the vast, indifferent/ and deadly universe, then cling to Him

Where I Live Now

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The young man is back again, solo,

A dress

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My poetry is bare, showing its pink and purplish imperfections and its injuries. I buy it a dress to hide its bruises, to ornate it a little, to make it smile. On its rather ugly and mishaped body, the dress looks comical, ridiculous, clumsy, like a bird with a broken wing.…

The Street Singer

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The Street singer gathers up his coins and counts to a hundred before The last string stops vibrating

astral ages

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Life in astral circles

Ezra Stoller

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captured by his lens and plates/ before humidity and hydrocarbons/ smudge the crisp clean lines

The Seagulls of Sauchiehall Street

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Sparrow and Mockingbird Greet the Dawn

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feathered waves of tangerine peach

Bricks

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There are things we must not say.

Exit 30

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They meant no harm when they flooded farms in its swirls and eddies

A Black Night

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The hairs on my arm lift with the breeze; a haunting breath from the open window carrying night-scented stock from the black-shrouded garden.

Astrology for a Better Future

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Nobody looks for Gina between the hours of four and five. Her father is on swing shift for the rest of the summer; his two o'clock- dinner plates are soaking in a sinkful of scummy water. Her mother is fanning herself in the shade of the wisteria, most of her…

An Indirection

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The bones are chilled now, past/ invigorations of the coming spring// and its entanglements

A Rich Future

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Also in development,/ the anatomically perfect robot/ pool boy and naughty maid,

Friend of Man

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I don’t read. I don’t do the dishes. What am I? If I were more domesticated, I’d poop in the street. I’d lift my leg and pee on the bushes. I would chase after every ass in the hood and sniff them too. I wouldn’t fetch much. What am I? Wha

Sweet Pigeon

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A small poem

Pink Fuzzy Bunny Slippers

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I’m not sure if it’s Punkin or her pink fuzzy bunny slippers that I love.

Doreen - III

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Male genitals were usually portrayed diminutively in classical art. After forty minutes in a drafty room without cloths on, I was beginning to understand why.

Dumb Ass

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I want to tell you how the odor of the flowers/felt her funeral day

The Misanthrope Confesses

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I murdered my inner child/ at 7 and neither denied/ nor confessed the act until now.

Phenomenology

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The universe is churn-

Epitaph N+1

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We die in order to get some rest

Oblique in an Acute New Century

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It is a small life, circumscribed/ by debt and income, age and infirmity./ The Hidden Hand thrusts its middle finger/ high.

Framed

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We can apprehend beauty only/ by framing it with the photographic/ paper’s edge or the novel’s margins/ and bookends.

Traces in the Winter Sky

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Exhaling slowly and deeply, Tyler settled his back in against the saddle of the tree's broad trunk and let it all go.

Snowed In

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“ I told you what she said, that she liked me better when I was drinking. Well, that's the way I feel, too. I liked her better when I was drinking.”