Most read stories

X Marks the Spot

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I was an only child....

Notes for a Life. In a Swing. No Wind to Speak of.

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Somewhere a banjo, somewhere a hound.

When the Witness Calls

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Here they come, those witnesses.

Kurosawa's Rain

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The rain fell from the roof. It fell from my voice and and my eyes. Toshiro's Kukichiro stomped gutshot through the mud with his katana. Young and beautiful, Mifumi died there on the screen though he doesn't really die for fifty or more years, they think from something…

The Little Things

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Incredibly he began to picture in his mind a scene not related at all to his frenzied search but of a huge plate of apple pie a la mode with the vanilla ice cream melting in streams like cool lava down the side of the pie and off of the plate.

The Dog

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They stood at the intersection waiting for the light to change so they could cross the highway.

A Chaos Theory

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—with spinster goddesses in the middle of things / circling looms.

Letters from the Asylum (3)

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She stepped into a pair of high heeled slippers and began to dance. She was Salome, a witch, dancing like the most beautiful, the most skilled whores of Paris.

Grace Gladys Gibbons

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Grace Gibbons is a way of life.

The Queue

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She persisted. “How long have we been here?” A note of anger crept into his voice. “How long? How long? Why …, why ….” He swallowed hard, realized he had forgotten.

Things That Glow

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The tiny green light flashing in the lawn of an apartment building one night that caught Roberta’s attention while we were walking home from Café Vita.

The Atlantic

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Phoebe-Lou Adams wrote this of them

Tuning Pegs

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Her face had that strange preserved quality Maybelle saw in many aging Boomer women — like an old toy never removed from its packaging.

Jorge Curioso Flies a Plane

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This is Jorge. He was a good little monkey. And always curious.Like the time he and his friend, the man in the amarillo sombrero, had to fly to Japan. *Jorge sat by the window. Watched the ground get further away. Until they were above the clouds. He looked out…

Bonne Fire

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And the voodoo pins pinged as, folding and imploding, she was reduced to a petro-chemical puddle.

Considering the Mailman

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It’s not just the mailman. It’s the logo on the mailbox down the street. It’s the uniform. It’s any man or woman in the whole unsettling profession.

A Broken Ankle, Canasta, and a Weirdly Sexy Jesus Sighting

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nothing can stop a group of genteel Southern women from a card game, and divine intervention makes one's participation in such an event quite worthwhile

Litter Box

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When I died, she said, she was going to have me cremated and put my ashes in the cats’ litter box.

The Guardian

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The Sky-What Limit?

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Lighter-than-air flight was back. The skies of the coast were alight with colorful balloons, dirigibles, and zeppelins tethered to their docking towers along the beach, the huge aircraft bobbing in the breeze up and down the coast for miles,…

The Haunting

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the ugliness will not be denied

The Future and Why We are Afraid

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Once, when I had not talked to you in a long time, I woke with your name in my mouth.

Fuck Ups

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we try, we keep trying

Conversation between Young Men

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It was stubborn early winter, when everyone was cold but went outside anyways, rubbing red fingers and shuffling feet.

Comes a Little Dog

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Time Holds Ultimately Nothing Dear Except Reunion

What She Thought It Was

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She refuses to let her eyes cry. Her eyes played tricks on her and showed her one thing was really another. They don't deserve to cry.

Audition

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My piano tutor, a walnut-faced shrew, rapped my knuckles with her small plastic baton to smack them back into the proper tempo, an adagio I’d mastered weeks before. One hour until the audition and damn if this woman didn’t break the skin of two of my fing

Quitting

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The dancer was a little chubby, but I didn't mind. It gave her more to shake.

Trombones and Figs

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“What are you doing, Maestro?"

Raincoat

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“It’s about basic working conditions!” she says, rubbing ice cubes on her nipples.