Most read stories

Prairie Rose

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Every Friday night she gets liberated at The Haymarket Square doing a bunny hop or a do si do with ex-members of The Saint Augustine Women's Choir. She remembers how as kids, shy or awkward in dresses, their voices formed the harmony, the flight of something V-shaped…

Ant Farm

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Every time I squished an ant with my finger, I felt a piece of me loosen and chisel off.

Do you dream?

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Megalomania is a kind of backwards leprosy. It rots your insides out while your skin glistens and grows tighter around your bones.

Waiting to Disappear

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Phew! That was close.

Old Photo, 1948 or so

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I’m maybe only four. Not smoking cigarettes found in street gutters yet. That will come the next year, when I’m five. Maybe when I’m six, and Andy’s five, my pal from across the street. That’s my tricycle parked behind this pack of kids that look to be ne

Red Hot Hyperbole

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She came from the land of rumpled sheets. She was the very definition of sex. She was the breeze through the wind chimes of his heart. One might say that she actually invented the orgasm. All mirages are this way. Perfect until they disappear. They

Marion, Texas

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Marion had decided to stop whenever she came upon Amarillo. It was close to two a.m. when she pulled into the motel parking lot. Momma, read the nametag on the woman at reception. Her face was illuminated by a TV. Her hair curlers were illuminated by the lone desk lamp…

The Weaver's Tale

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‘Hmph! Dream indeed! “Past the wit of man to say what dream it was” - the man's a knotty-pated arse.' The old master-weaver spat into the fire, his rheumy eyes bright with contempt, then looked round furtively; Nathaniel was not yet returned,…

Purple Lady, Lavender Afternoon

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—Pretty tulips, said the woman.

Cripple

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"I know," Timothy explained, "he can't use it. He's a cripple." No one else seemed to understand.

3 Kids

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There he was, naked and covered in green mud

Scent of a Woman - 55 word story

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She slipped into a silky sheath dress, and stepped into black sequined heels just as the doorbell rang. Her date had arrived to take her to his much touted Art opening in town. Reaching under the bathroom sink for a final mist of hair spray she realized too late…

The Devil in Converse

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In se'enties style serenading strut A passin all the pretty birds in kin', The feathered Stetson ‘clipsin crimson suit, A whistlin Dixie blues ‘cross county-lines.

"at 'night' any night is can't"

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“In the process, I’ve created this memory track. Yet had the sense that I had to make fixed memories move as illusion, that they move as illusion.”

77 Words About Nothing (Triad)

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My mind has started to finish thoughts at 77 Words. These are just a few.

Aloha

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It’s a little known fact that eels are often lost in translation – only the spotted variety, not the striped or the common and certainly not the electric.... I think about that lovely hippie girl and her knowledge of eels, sometimes.

Beyond the Wire

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Thistle and cracked corn were thrown to us each morning and the occasional live chicken...

Mutants

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Elin and I had religious differences about the garage. To her the garage required regular sweeping and organization--it was an extension of our house. Elin believed dust and mold to be manifestations of inner sin. I insisted that they were agents of evolu

Polaris

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Things get lost in Big John, too. I see the other guys throw jokes about his size at his body that wedge their way into his armpits or into the wrinkles of his laugh lines and disappear. I’m not sure if it all disappears to remind us how small we are,

When I Last Saw Gina

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Regina Dawn "Gina" Edwards, 49, passed away June 2, 2006. R.I.P. "Ridge Woman"

To Make Way for the Future

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It was the shock of black hair twisted into a long thick braid that got our attention and made us want to find meaning here. Albert thought he recognized the hair in the grave.

Where Have You Gone, Honey Bear?

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When I wake up and look to my left, will you be there with me, snoring like an asthmatic bear?

Beds

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Called in sick at work for a week straight when I first met Tony.

Beckett not Joyce

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Gorgonzola. It's what she was to bring this time. Plumtree's potted meat. What it was last time.

i went to raves & wrote songs

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A short poem.

The Solution to All My Problems

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IN BOX 12 OF DD FORM 214, the Department of Defense requires a narrative reason for every military discharge. Mine reads: Continued involvement of a discreditable nature with civilian and military authorities.

MAO

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She was as distant as Mao, someone I never met, but whom everyone carried in their eyes,

Fear in a Handful of Dust / National Poetry Month 2015 30 Poems

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Fear in a Handful of Dust

Days of Thor

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Mars' circled state is slain, no bird of Jove That roosts protected in its green youth's flush; Its storms no more bring moistness from above, From blue beads cradled in one thunder's flash. The god of War was husband once to Love: Her arms were …

Catastrophic, and Not Above Bad Puns

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I laid in the road, broken and alone, until I had no choice but to pull myself together and get out.