Most discussed stories

Sunday Morning Series- One: What I Learned in Sunday School

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I learned He was a Schmuck when, on/ the mountaintop, with Abraham,/ I waited on His call: one Isaac, neat.

If I’m honest

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We lived in a Holiday Inn trying not to be depressed that life had turned out to be so much like Eastenders, trying not to acknowledge that the thrill we’d got out of each other was the thrill of giving in to the wrong thing. We had more sex than ever b

Chattanooga Afternoon / Let’s Talk About Chattanooga

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Let’s talk about Chattanooga, the cloud / mountains, the monastery bench, drunk / at sunset

A Traitor of the Better Kind

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Go ahead, boy, pout like a fool.

Clover Grill: A Short Story

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I'm somewhere on I-10 in Mississippi, barreling westbound at 80 miles an hour through a rainstorm on a late Wednesday afternoon. The last road sign I remember was for Beauvoir, some Confederate general's…

Father Dunne's School for Wayward Boys #6

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Instead, we found his red-inked list of boys who would never be saved,

Texas Spleen

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Can we survive our Y chromosome?

Chores

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... honestly, the dishes were just tired. Too few in number and washed too often, they dreamed of an escape -- any escape, really -- from the endless cycle of hot water and being racked together to dry ...

Trash Burning, 1976

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This time the bag's bigger/than the boy and the door.

Summer, finito

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one season slips into another

Museo Libo

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He'd tend the door himself in high lace up boots, orange rhinestone hot pants, a tight black t-shirt, and black boa with orange swirl.

Sports day at the School for Clowns

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The javelin was cancelled after the unfortunate incident with Mrs Parker last year, but no one could have predicted this year’s sack race tragedy.

Napomo 17: April 1-6

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April spit its greeting, toe to head.

The Empty Bed

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But by day the birds / of prey were in control.

Txt msging

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Forty years later he was still her Romeo, she his Juliet.

Metafictionaut

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I'm available most weekends.

Hey, Pistolero

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I'm complex. You're complex. We're all complex.Who gives a shit? Man's fallen and he can't get up.I consulted Jacques the Atheist for advice: he toldme to beat it. "But I lack the proper stigma!" I cried.Once a month, I volunteer at the dressage parlor.On Tuesdays, I…

Jesus in Eden

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Eve is eating a plum. The plum is cold and how it got cold is sort of a mystery, but there are mysteries everywhere and the cold juice on her face doesn't really incline her to worry much about mysteries.

Chop Your Own Firewood and Learn To Juggle: Advice I'm Going To Ignore From "Life's Little Instruction Book"

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"Life's Little Instruction Book." There are some words of wisdom here that I plan to ignore.

Breath

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And here you are. Before your time. Behind the glass.

Baby of the Family

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I see my siblings once a year when we all show up, as if required by law, to eat Thanksgiving dinner. It is apparent with every bite how much they hate each other.

The Fuddy-Duddy Writer Reflects on her Fan(s)

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The Fuddy-Duddy Writer does not do wit.

Sad Songs

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She was thrilled when she learned that her best friend was having an affair.

Everything is Fine

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        The first one was dark and angular, coiled-looking inside an expensive suit.  Over her food at a small table in the hotel bar, Francesca had been unable to look at anything else but him.  Out of the suit, unsprung on a king-sized hotel bed, his skin…

Cremains

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I need a different storage solution

BEYOND THE LANE

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She learned the difference between listening and hearing, between looking and seeing.

The Stop

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You were busy, moving, alert inconstant motion; packingbooks, clothes, paintings;deciding yes to this, no to that. I was simply tryingto settle somewhere in the space.We'd known it for years when things were in place. Now, this abrupt interruption of…

The Witch in the Canyon

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There's a witch in Laurel Canyon.She made Wes a promise.Her bungalow smelled like Parliaments. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive oil. Parliaments, garlic frying in olive, and a freshly opened pack of Red Vines. Wes could have curled up into a ball and fallen asleep on her…

Aubade Faucet

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I. he leans his messy head against the walland contemplates his wild mistakeshe discovers a nest of red spidersoutside his rotting basement doorhe watches television in his socksand…

A Story

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Like many little towns, ours has an archive. It is a catalog of everything that happens.