Most read stories

The Song of the Jardin Venus

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The place is a living rebirth, And all death is only temporary. For soon in the land, the soil, For soon in

Obituary

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I won't fail at this like trying to fix a leaking sink without mud grease or washers tinier than Cheerios.

Avatar Of Chaos

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He has one good eye and is missing the other. The socket of his missing eye squints with a disturbing and unfathomable insight.

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,

VCR CIA

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When VCRs were invented in the 1970s, the first big user segment was people who wanted to watch porno films in the comfort of their own home. Troy and Lynn's upstairs neighbor, James, an enlisted man in the Navy stationed at Pearl Harbor, had a vast porn…

My Love For You Is Real

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Caroline smiles before reaching out to touch a shapeless shadow dancing on the wall, closing her eyes as the bumps in the primer serve brail to oncoming dreams.

Overheard While Buying Tires in Willits

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She breezes through the door, cellphone to ear, with the confidence of the affluent. Can you look at my left rear tire, the dashboard indicator says it's low. Back to her phone, Oh, Marsha, hi, how are you, you gorgeous WOMAN, you!? Hey, I'm on my way to…

Bare Feet

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Bare feet on hardwood floor Twists into circles

It's True What They Say

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Pa grasps my fingers, odd because he's never held my hand and he's dead ten years anyway.

What I Learned About Death While Eating Dark Chocolate

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85% extra dark cocoa:/biting into bitter darkness

Marine Forecast

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A favorite place doesn't always offer comfort.

Hyena Spit The Poem

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is

Residual Flashbacks

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Residual flashbacks; just tiny bright lightning bolts that flash in front of my eyes, just like standing watching a soaring bonfire on a cold and frosty November night, pinprick sparks flying up into the endless darkness of the night.

Jim Shows Me Twelve Jesuses

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in cinematic snippets, ten-second scenes of twelve Sons …

Blind Spot

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If the photographs made sounds, they would rumble like static from an impending thunderstorm, pressed between the pages of a yellowing dictionary. Compressed sound, searching for the proper words.

Peterson Park

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The bungalow was unlocked. The screen door was unhooked. The trout on the counter was deboned.

Eve's Curse in Silence and Sorrow

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To touch our skin was filthy, to spread our legs a mortal sin. You closed the keyholes to keep us apart, so we used them to keep you out and keep our secrets to ourselves.

Roy G. Biv

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Perhaps a blue person is more alive underneath than a red. Red is eye-catching and flashy, but blue is substantial, secretive. Of course, blood is red, and there’s nothing more substantial than blood, but we’re on blue at the moment, and the thought

Denmark (or On the Death of John Updike)

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The impression old Updike left on a young mind.

No Ordinary Pig

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During the day we search for truffles. I have a pig named Henry. He is a big help. He wanders the forest sniffing for truffles like a parable of porcine inquisitiveness. He knows what he is doing. He is not just a pig. Nor ordinary pig. He is a French pig

the hungarian artist

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What led to the current situation was that about a year ago the conceptual artist had been shocked to read in a small item in a newspaper that a conceptual artist in China had also grown an ear on his forearm and this discovery had led the conceptual artist to make a …

The Pilgrimage

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Frey wanted to see heaven without having to die. He had returned from the sea after being gone for three weeks, ranting wildly about a giant ship he had seen in the distance one afternoon.

The Ruined Person

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The pit of my stomach was bottoming out, this lurching sort-of feeling one experiences when one has coasted WELL OVER an abyss and has no way of finding one's bearings . . .

Burned by Shoplifting, One Store Turns to a Higher Power

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Most loss control specialists wear standard rent-a-cop outfits, but notSister Joseph Arimathea and Sister Mary Clarus, who wear the grey, white and black habits of the Precious Blood Sisters.

Hazel - alt.punk excerpt

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This is why people go into work one day with a shotgun. This is why people turn to the masses and drink Kool-Aid. This is one of the reasons behind Chuck Palahnuik’s conceptualization of Project Mayhem.

The Object of Desire

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I was born to be desired, stamped with the insignia of my creator, and folded in precious, shimmering materials. If the fate of my co-createds holds true for me, then this covering was further covered with the name of my creator, printed on materials too rough ever to touch…

Rose Gold

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He hasn't had a wedding ring in years. When George's knuckles began to swell — a little arthritis — his ring dug into his finger so bad his wife Loren took him to the ER and had it cut off. The ring, not the finger. He never knew there was a tool to cut rings,…

Neighbors

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She sees the little girls in the yard through her front window. They’re as naked as the day they were born, not far from the event itself. They dip backward and forward like pitchers, laughing, balling up their little white fists and shaking them like t

Noche de las Ranas

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He pushed aside the netting and trained the flashlight on the dripping courtyard. Rivers ran off the wide pinanona leaves, surged through fissures in the crumbling wall.

Hats for Houses

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It is certain. The roofs are hats for the houses because you wear a hat in the rain or the snow or even and sometimes especially the sun. The houses are curious. They keep their hats on at night. The downspouts for run-off water are strands of hair such as…