Most discussed stories

There is no such thing as stillness

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late winter light

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curled in

On Writing

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it's the very words that are the problem

Mercury Unbound - 5

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As the music concludes, I'm finally in control of my emotions . . .

Glowing Inhibition

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There will always be some who misread the dance

January 1980: Avenue A and St. Mark’s Place, East Village

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In the St. Mark's Bar and Grill romance is a speedy thing, a blurred whir of grope, kiss, connect. The tricky thing is timing: to leave in time for the boozy love of the hour to carry through to full, naked contact. Some succeed of course. Others overstay, hang past the…

Laundry List

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• Don’t confuse the virtues of bananas with the virtues of banana bread

The Little Things (three versions)

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It's the little things that trip us up: a small hole in a level field, an innocuous root in a well-trod path, a disinclined sidewalk...

I Love Us

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I'd kill a gas attendant in Playa Del Mar. You'd read stained romance novels in motel rooms, while I oiled the gun and laughed on the phone, to no one.

Paris in the the Spring

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he thought of her / longingly

Where You Lay Your Dreams

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In all my marriage stories, I am both victim and hero.

Bad Back

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Sharpie marked, Free Still Works

CBGB

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Lou Reed was sitting in CBGB, I was sitting on Greenwich Ave. and West 10th street. I didn't know him then and I didn't know him later either, but we were both there.

Lost Kites

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Unseen, he slides through cracks, unbound, liquid fear of mothers.

The Woman Who Cut Down Her Husband

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The woman carried a wooden log which was her husband into the house.

If Pigs Could Fly

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One day we turn a corner, and two fat little doggies spot us and come running up. Oh, they are so glad to see us!

The Gallery of Wounds

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The blood is memorable/ as is the copper taste of that/ momentary certainty of lockjaw.

My Mind Says It Wants to Forget Everything

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you think it knows about getting us as far as wehave, to the here we are now boathouse where we can stop holding onto our worldweary chains so much. How else can I slap this thing into a new clay pot for you? All those things that are…

Stage Play in Five Acts of Her: Matinee

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I could have writ­ten her as is with long bushy hair, skinned knees, over­hauls, blue­berry stains on her fin­gers and teeth because she eats them too much. I love her bet­ter this way, blueberry-stained and wild....

Quittin' Ain't Easy

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Hey, Y'all! Like I told y'all, I checked myself into this what you call a “ facebook Rehab Clinic” up here just about 40 miles outside of Kalispell, Montana in a little town called Gulag. I quit MySpace and that got me a reduced rate. Things are…

White Bread

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Brian takes off his size eleven shoe and shakes it out on the table.

Good Deed Punished (Matthew IV)

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homelessness, you called the lie,

Her

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It's time, more than anything

The Last Birthday Party

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The boy giggled, splashing his father and howling at the cold.

MAO

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She was as distant as Mao, someone I never met, but whom everyone carried in their eyes,

Dreams from the Station

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I was squatting in the living room at the party handling foreign currency. Two W.A.S.P. men in dark grey suits—we were partygoers new to each other—told us to keep the money. We removed the bills from a black leather album.

Empty or Too Full?

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If Everything is Inevitable

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Christine comes back from the future looking tired, which is the opposite of what I expected. For some reason, I imagined the future as being invigorating. But she walks into the apartment and abandons her suitcase by the front door, collapses into a heap on the couch next…

Kill Allan

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I still want to kill Allan, because he now is unseen

Chairs and Mirrors

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There's a mirror in front of me and I thought it was so I could see myself, but I didn't want to see me.