Most read stories

Three Sundays at The Grove

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Now, gazing into Greg’s expectant eyes, the only Chinese word Deepti could summon was kuei. Ghost. Before that summer, her mother flipped through the pages of Maxine Hong Kingston’s memoir every day, as if she could glean magic from the touch of her finge

The Sky is Simply White

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The rain is no terrible epitaph

February Fifth

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We've worked silence over / Like pros, our best work together.

Caprice Classic

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A cloud of light, white smoke floated out of the driver’s side window. Nate and Zach sat on the front bench seat, talked, and puffed away. “Breath in and say Mom is coming,” said Zach.

Locations

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They confess love for Karaoke and metal rock. They have purchased expensive Stratocasters and Zildjians.

An Earnest Prayer

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It’s like faith. My battle buddy is out there, I know it, but I can’t see him, nor can I hear him. I just know he’s there, trusting he’ll do what he’s supposed to do, and he’s trusting in me.

Trust Walk

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They were two girls walking home from school.

A Blow to the Possible

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Tombstones are only granite symbols of a man’s life, Gus thought as he changed lanes. Children, they were the ultimate epitaph.

Miss Edna's Lace

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When Elvis died, I felt so empty that I headed straight for Jimmy Choo's, but quietly, with the half-veil of my pillbox hat draped low over my face. I didn't want to draw attention to my vintage Dior mourning outfit, since I normally wear pants, even here. The voices…

What She Gave to the Sea

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1.There's a young woman in a nightclub seated next to a window out of which she watches the slow descent of snow, illuminated by strategic lights. She imagines herself falling with those flakes. Her friend has left her for the dance floor. The young woman is…

Stupidest. Film Director. EVER!

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["This is not a snippet of text. This is only a test."]

Book Killer

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Sometimes after bookbinding for a few hours at the hand-sewing table, Jillie would, after scraping her knife too roughly over the glue of an old book's spine, feel not like a resurrector of literature, as she should, but a killer. Not a calculating or

Gathering

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In the office supply store on Union, Jeremy, the stock boy, shelves tubs of rubber bands. Tubs with an easy-access pop-top and a see-through container. If Hendy saw these tubs, she would think these particular rubber bands resembled anorexic gummy-worms,

Tuscumbia, Alabama

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My dad at the wheel, my mother's ulcer inflamed, she puked her way across northern Alabama that summer, from Huntsville and the rusting rockets to Tuscumbia, the farthest any of us had been west. We drove through raw, blistered towns,…

Repatriation

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When he woke he carried the body of a cat instead of a man. Next to him his cat dreamed it had a human body.

Welcome to our community

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“Yeah, she's a real slut,” many contestants' mothers say. “If he could only keep it in his pants, he'd probably be able to stay in the country,” others say about their sons

Before the Fall (Pt. 2)

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Newsome glared at the sleeping woman, slumped over the edge of the hard, metal table, her head settled comfortably into the crook of her arm. Over an hour she's been in that position, he thought. Despite the harshness of the room, the fluorescent lights,…

mary jane - snow white super girl

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holland's hope and hawaii skunk god's one true gift to mankind

Class

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Class (appears in my book Breaking it Down; no journal publication) When your neighbor James Frehley cusses you out for hanging a block and tackle from the silver maple in your front lawn, begin to pull the engine from your Galaxie anyway, smile and nod…

Ezra Stoller

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captured by his lens and plates/ before humidity and hydrocarbons/ smudge the crisp clean lines

Winter Hawk Jack

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Jack, man in black, sporting manicured talons, his smile an iced knife.

Hobo's Pastor

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The three of us traveled seven hours that day and Al traveled as far in the service of finding the right tool for his writing.

His Laugh is My Yellow (or explaining skin color to a six-year-old boy)

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Max is the color of burnt caramelized sugar the sweet crust that decorates our bright enameled pots.

The Marriott Hotel, Downtown Brooklyn

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There was a time when she could quell the loathing that Fred inspired in her. She could force it down. Back then, for instance, when they’d been in counseling, the ball of hatred had only been a little, overripe orange - squishy and occasionally mushed

An Old Sweet Song

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Rob thought he might even make it. He'd stopped off south of Seattle, in Kent, and filled up the tank and went back in the can and topped off again. He got back on the road, to all appearances blase, blase. The montages were muted, at least for…

All Art Is Betrayal

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a world of probability against plague

Ibambe

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If this was the day when the bribes of whiskey and US dollars would fail to work. If on this day a black bag, smelling of shit and fear, would be pulled over his head – the bloodied roots of a knocked out tooth tickling his neck.

Deep Inside The Light There Are No Dreams

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Mack’s mind held a chandelier.

Dog Days

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A forgotten sprinkler is going in a neglected flower garden, water overflowing the bent wood borders and flooding the ground on either side.

Hot.

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She was legally blind. He felt comfortable knowing she couldn’t see him very clearly.