Most discussed stories

Sissyneck

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He pounds the roof of the Pontiac with the side of his fist and it rumbles like a timpani. He raises his head to light and wipes the sweat from his forehead. There's no sense in fighting it. He will go back and knock on Peter's door.

55 words

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The patient people who work with the insane are not my kind of people. They are too entertained by the oddness of the inmates and act with a superior sense. I, on the other hand, am odd myself, searching for adherents to my view. The inmates knew me as such and agreed…

Remembering Conway

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But you can have a lap dance.

Amoco Cadiz

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She'd liked the name of the tanker. The Amoco Cadiz.

Walter

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I keep sneaking looks at this guy on the subway. He's old, maybe 80. Really thin, the kind of thin that makes you think of a skeleton. But he's wiry. His beard, it's a gray, shaggy mess. He's mostly bald, but the hair that grows around the sides and back of his head is too…

He Was Slim And His Eyes Were Wrong

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Trying to hide, and yet, what continued to permeate was the shiny.

the symmetry of Aldo Rossi's handrails

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It would be another difference a building has from a “sculpture”. It would be something that even photographers would have difficulty in disguising, since many modern buildings, even many modern photographs of buildings, place such emphasis on symmetry. For both…

Happy Columbus Day

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Oh to be young and vigorous.

compass/ion

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a question that (never) left

small pleasures

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sheets, white, coarse redolent with Clorox

About Poems

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They often leave me dulled/ and wanting back my time.

Tales from the Golden Age II

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--How's the wriiting business? How about that thing you' was workin' on..."Gawain's Green Nights?" --Yeah, well, I'm kind of off the soft-core...

Missed

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How I felt in Ireland.

August, now and after

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I'll see her this fall, a redhead in camo

Attempting Integration, Duchamp Descends to the Killing Floor

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Slice the moment into/ free body diagrams/ of elegant simplicity

just like James Taylor

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tell me about the time you lived in Carolina, and what my smile does for you.

The Poet Reads

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If ever I read a poem aloud It will not be from a podium’s shelter

Slut Whore

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Slut Whore has every Barbie on the market lined up sitting on the windowsill along her bedroom wall, and all their best clothes and accessories.

Dreams-in-progress

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A team of reggae journalists played and an unknown man came after work for me in a kilt.

Wasps' Nest

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Here’s how you do it. First you get a ladder, a long one.

Biography

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There is a price. It's on the back. If you turn it around you'll see. It isn't expensive. Everything's okay.

Virgo

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I said he was cold. I said I like cold.

yesterday/today

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bones and shuttered windows

Texas Route 29

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Texas Route 29 is not a straight line.It traces the perimeter of our own Georgetowncompelled west kicking off shit-stained bootsgreeted by green and yeller' John Deereignored by motley cattle, heads bowed weighed low with marrow-filled horns.A Jack Nicklaus golf course…

A Boy and His Tire

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**I think Bridgestone Tire borrowed this story for a commercial. Maybe not, see video and decide.**

Moving On

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When we say "Nanoism is looking for twitter-fiction serials for its current contest," this is one example of what we mean.

Scooter and Skipper at the Roman Colosseum

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We make our way into the Colosseum–excuse me, the Prince Spaghetti Colosseum–and take in the beauty of Italy’s national pastime; sadistic cruelty to wacko religious cults.

On " Thinking outside the box."

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Love to. Really would. …

Skunks

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I tell people that we leave out food for the creatures to appease the skunk gods.

God

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I realize that to say, "I do not believe in God" is footsteps away from "I do not rely on God" and "God left me."