Most discussed stories

Flesh Alive

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Rise up, carcass—march! / Naught is new beneath the jaundiced sun: / last of the last of Louis' gold, / light is sliced through clean / beneath flecks and films of time.

En Pointe

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Her gaunt arms softly rose, sweeping in front of her with movements that were hesitant at first but, as the music that only she could hear took her in its grip, became graceful and assured.

Feelings

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I feel like shit.

Shana (Refuse)

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Papa said he'd be in the stands watching: section H, 5th row, seat 35. During warmups, she had looked, during stretches, she had looked, but she had stopped looking right before the race."Don't worry about me," he had said. "Focus on the race," so when the man had said on…

Twilight of the Trotters

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Neither you nor I is old enough, of course, to remember that America’s most popular athlete once was a horse.

Mamba

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How does Bandie feel about snakes? This is my thought. What good is a serpent without venom?

Facing the Music

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The spirit bottles line the top of the bar

Every Mirror with Two Sides

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She was gazing down at her two hands holding the peach seersucker top, but without blinking she saw four hands—ahh, idiot, the mirror! But in the next moment no, it was four hands . . .

Sparrow

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I don't care what my reincarnated self thinks about today. I'm already aware that everything stinks in the end. Well. It's supposed to. But all things must seek travel while they can. Dance while they can. Dream while they can. Laugh while they can.…

A Day At The Beach

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Rothko and Stella loved the beach. To Jalapeno it was just one big litter box and for her it held no great appeal. She sprawled sunbathing on the dashboard lifting a lid occasionally to watch Lauren riding a wave. The dogs delirious with freedom romped and chased tight…

The Diaphragm

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They had a deal, she reminded him. If he didn’t want to wear a condom all the time, he’d have to help with her birth control.

gravelortian part 17

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Biting off your own tongueBlistering boils, stumps of burnt hairChopping your hand off with a dull axeDrowning in a swimming pool of blood and pissDrinking dog puke from a brown paper bagEating the intestines of your uncle three months deadFalling into barbwire covered…

Well Enough Away

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Everybody knew the buildings were trying to kill us.

Eskimos Happened to Come Wandering By

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Meet Carl. He's six-three, two hundred and thirty pounds. He has light-brown hair,…

Dipshits.

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[WARNING: THIS FILM CONTAINS PROLONGED SEX SCENES OF AN EXTREMELY EXPLICIT NATURE AND SCENES OF GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, WHICH SOME VIEWERS MAY FIND SHOCKING AND DISTURBING.]

The Swan On Earth

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I saw God sobbing in a wheelchair. I saw God on the ceiling of your bedroom on Illinois Street while you were inside me the first time. (I remember so many things… Do you remember who I am yet?) I saw myself, far away in a window – the swan on earth

The Audition

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My music teacher, Luigi Biagi, told me that he was done with me. He said it was time I moved on to more specialized teachers. Since my passion was composing and arranging, he recommended Al Fine.

I Ask You, Erin Burnett...is it fair?

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In the privacy of a booth?

gravelortian part 18

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A poor boy scribbling

The Boundary Line

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These things were indeed the wealth of our respective nations.

Six Down

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“You own your own burial plot, but you don't own your home,” he'd said, and I couldn't help but agree.

poetry seductress

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And then there was this girl from Boston, named Pat, who was a little on the hefty side and wouldn’t get off me. And I was skinny then too. She wanted sex so much and so often that the whole time I visited her apartment in Cambridge, after I graduated f

How We Handle Our Midnights

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He fingered her lighter off the table during a party hoping she would come over and talk. She was just on the other side of the coffee table but the stereo was so loud, belly or dee lite or some other early 90's dance…

Caverns

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Naked chest, Naked nipples...

Artist Statement

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which consisted of me being shoved down a flight of stairs. Thanks to a PELL grant in 1996, I was triumphantly run-over by a family Winnebago in the critically acclaimed, Run-Over. This lead to a series of “happenings” I conducted in alternative space

Poetry for Cats

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Call me crazy, but I like to write poetry. For cats.

Root in a Bottle

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He had expected more -- at least his grandfather's classic Packard touring car.

Life As a Beach

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Life is a beach, not an enormous ashtry.

Error Bars

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Is death like standing in a room at night and turning off the lights? You would still hear your breathing. You hold your breath. Silence. Darkness. Yet you feel gravity, your feet on the floor. Then the air brushes your skin. Remove the air,…

War Doc Week

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Douchey Jake made me cry until my eyes puffed so much I couldn't see through them. I said hey look, to my friends who slept on the futon, don't I look like one of those dolls with the real fake eyelashes? The truth is I've been pretending I don't…