Most discussed stories

The Wooden City

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Ah, how sweet is forbidden fruit, how delicious undiscovered sin!

Flight

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Fortunately, when the bird hits the sliding glass doors in our den, I know what to do.

Dislocutions

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Q: This name in Basque means “owns a new house.” A: What is “Xavier”?

Assless

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I heard on WUSF,

Folded Flower

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Attached in the center were the petals of a small flower pressed in wax paper. Uncreased, she read it out loud

I'm Not Emilio Estevez

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Here was the situation, as I recounted it to myself: somehow, I was trapped in some unearthly dimension where Baltimore, actor Emilio Estevez, and myself had somehow collided in a big cartoon scrum complete with onomatopoeias and clouds of dust.

Quitting

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—It’s difficult to say, he said. I have mood swings. Women don’t like that. They become upset.

A Straw Grasp

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My wife, Sheila, inadvertently clicked my e-mail address, too, when she sent her reply back to him and I read her poet friend's message that her love opened the window of his heart and she replied that his words were knocks that opened the door to her being, then I stood…

Brocades

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The creatures were thief-walking...

here, winter

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a day so brittle

Lizard (Valentine's Day Massacre)

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I travel over your body with small feet, reach your heart.

Event Particle

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With the morning comes the repetition...

How To Profit As Copper Becomes The New Gold

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We have no more leaders, only rulers who live in another country. I don't ask why my cousin's hand is bandaged, what he's been burning, what's tarped in his truck.

Rehab

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Well, I finally 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 and, as I'm sure you can guess, there's no posting or commenting or liking anything anymore…

In tidal relief

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the world slips under the waves

Rinds

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I miss Mother gentling the small of my back. She has forgotten me. Her little girl. Whose thumb she fussed over when a rose thorn scratched it and blood spilled like a secret. Whose smile she said was her morning sunshine, whose hug was incense. I yearn for her lips…

Birdhouses

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That year, if you asked Al, was truly the best of times, the worst of times.

The Final Word

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w o r d

The Mommy's Girl

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Her mother dressed her like a little girl would dress a doll.

O'Arlo's Journal: About Myself

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Every morning if I don't have to go potty....

Cut-offs

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The sauce is you

Matt: How It Will Happen

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It will be a beautiful, luminous, rollicking, transcendent book, the manuscript smudged with tomato sauce and tears.

Bad Boys

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I don’t remember much about kindergarten.... The teacher’s name was Mrs. Halverson. She was nice.

Tangled Up in Glue

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Shhhh, my husband is trying to write...

civilization

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pain and anger

untitled

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fallen leaves, broken limbs fron wounded trees

In the Waiting Room

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She sits and waitsOn a chair that is hardWith a neck that hurtsAnd an eyeball that stings.She sitsSo stiffOn a chair that is hardWith a neck that hurtsAnd an eyeball that stings.She sitsAnd the hand on her lapHas a joint that cracksWith a neck that hurtsAnd an eyeball that…

Whyisthereaheavyweight?

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Why is there a heavy weight and a chain and a padlock in her woodstove? Because, she says to herself, slightly hysterically, because this is yet another thing that you must carry. Why? Because life is full of chains and padlocks and heavy weights. Hea

My Books

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My books wound you. They wound me / too.

Displacing Charles the Bald

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I try to envision long-haired men riding horses across a vast expanse, their faces blank as those of my students.