Most discussed stories

Golden Dawn

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Rose would have preferred to survey the wreckage alone, between sips of her earl grey, but the morning light drew her attention to blonde and jet black curls weaving into folds of fabric.

American Soul

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At one time it appeared that Everyone was walking their own angel On a leash, but Now we're not that sure at all And it could come out in song That it might really be the angels Who’ve been walking us All along All this broken glass

shakey

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You held my hand when I hit the ground and told me the shakes would start soon.

Alt Break

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the Griot Grrrls stopped playing their distinctive brand of power progressive acoustic worldfunk at open-mics around campus

You'll Miss Your Destiny If You Are Shy

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Okay, you want the truth? I was never that good with strange. It takes me awhile to warm up. And I’ve got to be attracted, somehow. Like with your eyes.

Anhedonia (excerpt 2)

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Crazy. I really hate when people use that word.

Sufficient

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She used to think of him as someone to entertain with charming lies, but things evolve in unexpected ways.

Pharaoh's Revenge

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The first intimation that something was afoul was when his computer crashed.

'MY DICK IS SO HARD FOR JESUS!' by Christofascist Jones

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"Now, I'm not no Holocaust Denier . . . I just think it was a little bump in the road! Like Reagan said about Watergate . . . 'Mistakes were made,' and all. Well, shoot . . .…

the swan gliding before death

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When you awaken on the other side, you will see, I was like the swan gliding before death, and the animating power of her is willing and unavoidable. And you are itching, feeling an inextinguishable sexual desire, its nightmare ink burnt in your head, n

Yellow

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Slipshod shoes were the first sign of a meltdown. Sometimes she could see it coming. A prickly gentleman washing his clothes on a Thursday afternoon. One week he’s fine. Nothing wrong with owning a sour face. The next Thursday, his shoes don’t match.

Sleep With The Fishes

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Pull her from the water and check her pockets. Shouldn’t death tattoo a message on each palm it removes the pulse from.

The Weight of Need

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In need of help, he bought his first self-help book at the age of twenty-nine.

Song: Nope, music by Tim Young, lyrics by Jerry Ratch

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paste into browser: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsSKsjOTCFU&feature=em-upload_owner

Pillow talk

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‘Do I still ‘respect’ you? Ha! - there’s a sweet old-fashioned phrase! I don’t know, maybe not so much ...

And Her Eyes Said Something I Did Not Understand

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A herd of garbage trucks groaned down dark streets filling their black hydraulic hearts with rotten trashcans and glass, and a smile ate her whole face. I showed her a text from a friend: "T-minus 10 seconds till meltdown."She laughed and I wrote back.A small,…

A Stolen Pipe Goes a Long Way Towards An Empty Pouch of Nothing

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We were always blowing stale enough air into each other's faces from the smallest roundest tables available looking at each other sideways at the same sad time as the puppet show…

Flash'em Tag'em Bag'em

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On a hot summer day in downtown San Francisco, a flasher gets more than he bargains for when the woman he flashed at a coffeehouse pulls out a gun.

Tidbit

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By dawn, she is ready to hunt.

Prometheus

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Allow me one moment of stasis from pain, If I must really become that one, Who brought by giant hand man's gain, And suffered through theft of the sun. No dagger pricks the injured side, Or vulture picks the source of bile: Still must wan hordes…

the girl next door to Andy's

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Then there was this short little girl, Jo Ann, who had a daughter and was divorced, who lived next door to Andy. She told me right after we did it one night that she had always wanted to have sex with me when she was growing up, as a teenager, I mean. A

the spirit of the dead watching. Gauguin

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Listening too much to the night, with its whistles, bright lights of luminescent bursts like leaves on fire, or the raised ear of a cow in the purple mist, or the curled tail of a pig foraging in the night.

Street Lamp

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An old man leaning over his stamp collection. His burning face glows with bourbon. Underneath, children try to stretch moments. Each toss of the ball, turn of the handlebars a deliberate time shaping exercise to see how much distance they can…

Crescent City, Spring '97

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It takes almost an hour before I drift to sleep on the bus. When I wake up in Crescent City, I’m surprised. Maybe I was going somewhere else in my sleep. Walking out of the station, it feels like a strange place. Somewhere I’ve never been before. The

The Theory of Color

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The story of the black pen drawing a dark hole makes everything seem so elaborate and obscure. Or even a seven-year-old leading police on a wild car chase to avoid church. Or naming a new band Fuchsia, which looks like the beginning of an

writer’s block

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round & round this empty block again & again i go

The Crescent Caretaker

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Enter Tipitina’s – the rotation hole where electric, shoeless uncles allocate their copper goulashes to catch white dripwater.

Cliche

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Six thousand dollars was a small price for a man's life. Mario was in the back seat of the Honda with Johnny next to him handcuffed, all tense. Francisco had it on a rap station, the sort of music that gave Mario a headache.

Who's Better: Michael Jackson or Shakespeare?

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I looked up “tupping.” It doesn’t have anything to do with Tupperware. It’s Old English for screwing. Just like a professor–make something harder so you’ll get it wrong on the mid-term.

Let's Walk This Dog

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if you don't quiver with anticipation you'll barely manage to explode