Most discussed stories

I Was in Hell, Carmella...

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You have to play the part and be somebody else at all cost, do this from the time you wake up drink your milk first contact, mom I wish I were someone else, tell me, tell me there must be a way through the center of the doughnut hole, direct opposite of a crucifiction.…

Ann Patchett Writes Her New Novel on the Treadmill

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I write my new poem in the gardenBut not like Mary OliverMore like meDirt under my fingernailsReal dirtI can feel the grit of it Something that shouldn't be thereBut is.

So Green

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So greenThe road winded its way like a terrier tail but without wagging. Cream white snow and warty as country roads are with their noisy gravel which crackled under my schoolgirl shoes. I can still hear that noise when cars pass in front of my house, the tires…

Residuals

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My heart raced. I couldn't swallow. Heat rose under my skin, sharp and disorienting. I wanted to disappear—to fold inward, to dissolve—but instead of leaving, I walked toward him.

Soldier's home

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That there are a downstairs, and high voices.

Asking for Water

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You were no woman at the well. The birds all passed looking blackened by the sun. It was in your eyes. Mine saw only you standing. The pressing sun was a singular frying experience between us (and I suppose the searching birds). Identity was…