Most read stories

City of Masks

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"There is something in the air. It makes people sick, makes them want to die. They cannot inhale too deeply for fear that it will turn them mad."

A Journey of Seven Thousand Miles

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The taste of / what is denied us is always sweet

The Sticky Platypus of Love, the Novelists' Battle for Sedative Peace

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Let there fly the sticky platypus of love, resplendent beak of the sleek.

Gazpacho

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It's a pretty strange feeling when you think you're about to bite into some ice cream and instead it's gazpacho.

"Hadrian's Farewell" as Tanka and Haiku

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Little rambling soul,/kind guest, friend: leave me laughing,/pallid stiff, and bare.

Husbands

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What a hoot men are. For years I tried to get Jim to share the cooking. This is how that worked. One Monday night I'd whipped up a meal of steak, tossed salad, two veggies, and dessert with coffee. The next day was Jim's turn to cook and he came home

destiny

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destiny

Oaxaca Dreamland

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She thinks she trusts this man; she wants to trust him. His face reminds her of a man who once took care of her on an airplane when she was a kid traveling by herself.

Golgotha

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They were starting to get winded. The boy, his father and his little brother were hiking up a hill, cutting a diagonal path through hay-colored grass towards an outcrop of craggy boulders below the hill's summit.

I Like it This Way

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Through its branches we saw a couple. Teenagers, narrow and pale, two young birch trees, their roots twisted, submerged in the water.

Helmet

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The tiles begin inching toward him as soon as he moves. You've seen filings on glass. He's the magnet on the underside.

The Tombwatcher's Tale

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My name is Lu-chen Wyatt, and I have watched this tomb for seven years with undying loyalty. Tomorrow I am going away, and I wish to set down the story of my leaving and to say goodbye to Set-Yi, whose burial place has been my home for so long.

The New World

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And so we conquered.

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.

The Little Things

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When the world is quiet, all your thoughts demand attention.

The Dead

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When i close my eyesI see the faces of the deadI hear their voices The things they said, their laughter The ones i thought would live forever!! Something got them though: the ones who lived fastIt was a drug, some bullets, a disease I thought they would live forever!!Those…

Ashes

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Now, the Midwest was ashes. The oceans were covered with hydroponics plant growth.

Shatters

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She collects slowly The pieces Each one Heavy with grief Precious and Also bitter

Warthearm

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‘Look, look, Quark. Look here. Warthearm. A shiny warthearm.’ Maz was on his elbows and knees, his fat ass sticking out in their air like two cannon-balls ready to be shot off. He was peering at a long, shapeless earthworm, its skin translucent and i

the morality of pens: a sonnet

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poets can kill, or at least they once could:/ perhaps poems tamed us, if they are any good.

It is Written

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That Dagwood is not a real person but a story told in dots. That Blondie is a male fantasy and will one day find her Nora Helmer.

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

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Somewhere a banjo, somewhere a hound.

Inventing Games

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As children we invent games and we're really creative. We concoct ridiculous rules and enjoy making adaptations to them. And everything makes sense. Then you grow up, lose creativity. You don't invent games anymore. Recess is replaced with a second…

Hurricane Shutters

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The thing that really gets you about the house is the hurricane shutters. They're up already, even though it's the end of May, because Buck's uncle is back in Rhode Island for the summer and he's prepped the house on Key Largo like Armageddon is coming.

Where Is Daddy?

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He checks the bedrooms first, then the hallway, followed by the living room and the bathrooms. When he can't find you he takes to calling out, daddy, I'm sure the neighbors hear.

A Deaf Man

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Billy had crystal blue eyes A small mouth And long hair to cover up his Hearing aids. He told me once, with his hands How he liked to submerge His head in water and yell So loud he could feel it. "I can hear myself that way," he…

profanity

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@#$!

The Fuddy-Duddy Writer Reflects on her Fan(s)

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The Fuddy-Duddy Writer does not do wit.

The Atlantic

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Phoebe-Lou Adams wrote this of them

5000 years

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"She had been warned." (this started as a fun alien story and then took a human turn.)