Most read stories

Grace Gladys Gibbons

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Grace Gibbons is a way of life.

I Scream

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she peeled back the white wrapper from around her ice cream sandwich slowly, methodically

Big City

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She takes her hamburgers medium rare and the pickles remind her of the taste of last night's penis before she stuffed the stranger's apologies in a jar.

A Sacrifice For God And Man

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The words of prophets only serve to demonstrate that ‘unreliable narrative’ can often result in poor literature; unfortunately, poor literature can attract a very large following.

Wife

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What used to be a scene has broken into fragments and blips of her on a screen I can’t control or manipulate.

fire and ice

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“Who says?” she purred in reply “They all do” he countered smiling , chewing on an ice cube “All of them, huh?” She leaned forward, raising a wicked left eyebrow and whispered, “And just who are they, anyway?”

Things I Will Miss Once the Apocalypse Is Done

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The scent of fresh cut grass./ The idiot sense of accomplishment/ mowing the lawn can bring.

He Said, She Said

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Maybe she would get married and have a baby, she said. Not with me, I said

Prairie Yields

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The river’s not/ a river but/ a FEMA map/ of flooding probabilities.

3 Kids

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There he was, naked and covered in green mud

Leox

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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..

Happy Hour

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We were in the car more than anywhere else. A few days driving, then a few days to get back home.

A memory of worms

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Seph loved to scare her mother in the garden by picking up a worm with the tines of her gardening fork and chasing her with it, the dirty-pink body twisting on the end. Dee would scream a little, always eyes on the worm, and run slowly, as if…

Even My Air Guitar Is Lame

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I had the hair of a metal god, cracking it against the air whenever the stereo belched fists.

Anchored Leaves

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i.More and more, for Megan LeMaster, each beginning was its own end. She couldn't bear to buy flowers or dresses that seemed too beautiful. Friendships formed, endured, gave out in a handshake. Each deed in life had an immediate, inescapable…

How to Survive Your First Breakup (Anxiety)

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And don’t you dare start panicking. Just sit there silently, letting the truth that you’re alone sear the back of your neck until it starts to feel cold.

Tortoise

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Seven black and orange Tortoise-shell kittens nursed in a crate the day Sue returned from rehab, to her parent's Atlanta home.

Love Story, a Sequel

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He hid in parks and abandoned apartment houses until his wounds healed. He ate nuts, berries, and seeds. A shy, gentle soul, he watched children playing on the monkey bars, and thought of his lost youth.

Awaken Sleepy Star

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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…

1985...What I wanted

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with cool confidence and believable body language

Me And My Liberal Friends

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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

Rust

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We lived in a white and mint green trailer in the woods. I was 23. The hanging of the clothes on the line made me feel kind of famous in the eyes of nature

A Time for Peace

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When she opens the door, I say hi and introduce her to my friend, a bottle of J.T.S. Brown. She laughs and tells me to come on in before I fall down.

The Forefinger of Lenin

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Who puts Vaseline on the forefinger of Lenin? I want to know

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.

Food for Thought

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I could never be a chef.Preparing creations that will merely be consumed.If I were a chef,I'd have to create dishes that required chewingand chewing and chewing.I'd find it better for my dishes to be destroyed in the mouth.Remembered for their…

Roanne's Dream

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Roanne banged the chiva, turned tricks, and ran out of road.

Trio of Found Poems

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Paper Bird, Devotchka, TV On The Radio

Source Code

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....the first/ in a long history of indignities.

Visitation Hour

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She watches too much VH1 for a five-year-old.