2008 3 2
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The Bird King suffers from phantom head syndrome. Ever since his decapitation by a critic, he has felt pain where his head used to be. Sometimes it wakes him in the night. It's so excruciating, he fumbles for a saw. But alas! there's nothing to chop off.He's seen every…
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2008 16 13
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Write a poem in which your father is a dog and you are his leash.
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2008 3 1
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Dizzy but still alive
Inside this conversation
I ask if you have a sister
And if she'll know me
If I'm with you.
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2008 6 5
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I peeled off a hundred. For the screwdriver, I said. The kid shook his head, made a pushing-away gesture. You need it worse’n I do right now, he said.
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2008 7 3
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I suppose the lazy trees would have a thing or two to say about love
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2008 1 1
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I bet if I went back, Old Stradlater would still be combing his gorgeous locks in front of the same goddam mirror.
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2008 3 3
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Portions of my heart and bones
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2008 8 7
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Don't sleep. Tiny orange Balloons like seahorses are bobbing This way and that trying To get your hair to lift Off its marvelously mud- Swamped and pillowy support beams, blue sea strand by green. Don't you want to see…
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2008 9 3
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She wrapped her legs around him. His hand barely held the rope and later he could not have said if it happened above or below the water’s surface.
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2008 2 1
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Fate could have sent me any number of Sergeant-Detectives, but fate sent me one of Boston’s finest, Sergeant-Detective Sheila Magnuson. Aside from being a little undernourished Sheila Magnuson is possibly the world’s most beautiful Sergeant-Detective.
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2008 21 5
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You got a lot of people, out there
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2007 8 7
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Once upon a time, before there was Prairie, there was Swamp.
Therein lived Salamander and Snake. High above them, in the tops of Cypresses lived Woodpecker.
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2007 26 6
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She was flying back in the morning, returning to a long-distance boyfriend I believed she had cheated on while she was here but didn’t ask about because I thought it would have been too obvious and somehow ungentlemanly.
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2007 4 3
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I. When my lips mouth yours where they are…
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2007 0 0
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At the time I first went to work for Mr. Byron my family was in a sorrowful state. My dad, much as I can recall, was one of those roving kinds, called himself a carpenter or contractor, depending on the kind of job he was aspiring to, and was subject to f
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2007 6 2
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Whoever came up with the term kismet is an absolute moron. There isn't a single reason, or word, that can describe what exactly my brain has concocted in the face of him. No, kismet isn't what makes it happen. It's my own stupidity..
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2007 4 2
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We've worked silence over /
Like pros, our best work together.
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2007 1 1
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"Ah, finally the rain stopped pouring!" She opens the window to let the sticky air out of the house. The colours outside have changed. The air is clear and the sky turns into light pink while the sun is drowning at the horizon. She takes a deep breath. The…
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2007 16 13
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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.
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2006 7 7
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“Thank God The Yogurt Store Was Open!”. I knew this would cause cynics to seethe about me and my #FirstWorldProblems. While those less with the times or from many years of vanilla ancestry, might become racist themselves, indicating that I was suffering f
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2006 13 9
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Dear Fictionaut Family,Some of you may recognize my name and remember reading my work, some of you may have joined more recently and be wondering what the hell I'm doing addressing you directly. I began writing on Fictionaut in 2010, during four years as I was fragmenting…
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2006 0 0
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No news spreads faster than news of a death. Word of the death of a child can be heard simultaneously in a thousand places. . . the word spread by telephone, in back yards from clothesline to clothesline, with whispers in grocery stores, in the looks on faces stunned into…
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2006 4 3
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On Day 1122 at 4:14 AM the door which has remained since installation firmly glued to the masonry behind opens and a man emerges blinking shielding his eyes against fine stinging snow.
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2006 22 8
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"Ha ha!" I said triumphantly, "I've got some left and you don't!"
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2006 18 14
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There are no city-chewed streets,/
only white and lilac blooming dogwood trees.
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2005 20 18
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or the voice that wants/
to be inscribed/
forgets the sounds
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2005 3 1
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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,…
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2005 17 10
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Even if your heart is as large as a small car, your tongue as heavy as two grown men—even then—you will have to carry it with you wherever you go.
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2005 3 0
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“What part of ‘only bettors can watch the Yeti fight’ do you not understand?!”, he yelled. “Either place a bet or get the hell out of here!”
I begrudgingly gave him all of the money I had on me, about two hundred, and placed it on Demonio B
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2005 5 3
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The summer everyone read Faulkner, I read Hemingway. Out of spite.
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