Most read stories

Harpoon

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he’s recognizable in the earliest images of misery: a hand shoving a young gladiator before the lion; the fire devouring a witch in Salem. And here he is. Again.

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?

The Gospel According to Teeny

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Then I heard it -- a sound like an oboe being strangled. Teeny was farting onto the cement stoop through her jeans, a tripple flutter blast.

The Last Bailout

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In desperation, the city council imported a shaman to exorcise whatever demons had possessed the house.

Rough Draft

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fated and cruel, a person I don't love

The Violinist

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Max leads the parade up the hill. He is sawing on his violin, wearing nothing but a raincoat.

On Work

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From my resume'.

Mercury Unbound - 4

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The music, Antonín Dvořák's 'New World Symphony,' the second movement, 'Largo,' immediately alters my mood.

Mystery by the Bay

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The water was like glass except for a ripple here and there where Spearing were jumping. Joe didn’t know whether they were playing or avoiding being lunch for larger fish. He set up shop above the point where, light years ago, his father, a fisherman, had

||||||||||| (Munun)

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Winter melts to ashes and now we walk where hillocks dip like pillows, where a warm pocket of air keeps the scent of spring beauties for itself. Sensitive vetch so easily shocked folds under a feather yet the earth trembles where trout lilies shove. Buds stall on lilacs…

If IT Were YOU

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author's note: the borgs in this story have been programmed to think of themselves as IT and in speech refer to selves as YOU* Though IT too had ball and socket joints, the Borg could not sit down to face ITs inquisitor. While IT felt the need to clean up the fallen…

Cliche

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Six thousand dollars was a small price for a man's life. Mario was in the back seat of the Honda with Johnny next to him handcuffed, all tense. Francisco had it on a rap station, the sort of music that gave Mario a headache.

Gateway Love

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Gateway Loves are lethal. They do not discriminate between bot or flesh, primary or clone.

Crawl

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Crawl to the dark places I love most, loud music and off key laughter, glimmering green and brown bottles eagerly holding the dim lights overhead inside themselves like ransomed stars.

When Spring Comes Will the Grass Grow by Itself?

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Lila began to hear whispers coming from her home's air vents and quickly assumed people were watching her. Maybe that was why the yard was not progressing she thought. The unknowns talking to her through the vents had control over everything she did.

The Illuminated Dream

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It broke through the surface of the suburban world and shattered it into pieces, fragments of dreams and amazement. She was not the same as she had been a moment before. It was an epiphany she couldn't put her finger on.

Visitation Hour

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

Beyond the Wire

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

Faith

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your leather jacket zip has left a row of teethmarks on her arm

Mid - Loss

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Mid-Dawn//Mid-Dusk -- Wait for me.

Of Mugs and Men

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I want to break that mug. (Break him.)

Mice

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Short, but true. Damnit.

The Bicycle Mechanic

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The hour reflected those pleasant moments when evening hunger can be satiated by anticipation alone, before the pangs become demanding.

Beards

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One day my mother's lover shaved his beard and legs. Said he couldn’t fit into his tight jeans anymore.

Sea Floor Fever, or The Note that Came With the Stone to the Head

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I'm dying but that's not to say what you think it says. I've crossed the river of myself many, many times before and wandered to the shore, broken and drenched and full of the fever of dyingdreams. Each time was a kind of ritual mask, drying off the beat ofmy newly…

The Tree is Farther to the Man

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I am constricted by rings. The weight of self crushes me.

The Catcher in the Rye -What Happens Next-

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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.

Arcana Magi Memorial - c.3

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Despite the light of the torches, the darkness around them was overwhelming. They could not see the walls unless they leaned the flames close.

Six Short Poems

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Can't please everyone / Or sail in all directions / Sail on / Stay the course / Still the ill-pleased storms come / To suck the wind from my sails

Mayweather

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where I'm from