Most read stories

the ethics of graffiti

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Cento In Prose and Poetry

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*A"Cento" which is a "patchwork poem" using the words of other writers. for V.W. …

The Blue Pear

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The pear is a bruise. Feels like desperation in the light, it looks soft and blue. She wants to touch it and doesn’t want to. How the blood gathers under the blue and the body grows tender. Swells. Slowly.

My Boyfriend Believed in Aliens

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My boyfriend unequivocally believed in the existence of aliens. He was the Mulder to my Scully, though when I said so, he had no idea what I was talking about. I never understood how someone so E.T. obsessed could have missed 'The X-Files'.He would look skyward, eyes…

Frozen Bird Pie

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I like how you completely disappeared inside a undetermined and yet planned point of pretty good view, like a rabbit with a gold chained pocket watch, like a stunned, frozen bird with a still burning bullet in its tinyfeathered brain. You could…

Museum of Everything

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It is the monad.

Wrong Number

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"...just like you rehearsed..."

SEPARATION ANXIETY

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Julie and I had been dating for almost a year when she slipped her vagina under my door on her way to work.

Understudy

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All young and loud and big and I swear her face like a lighthouse lamp, glowing—I remember thinking, ‘She’s drunk at nine in the morning.’

The House

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Two stories, limestone, gray shutters,next to the park.“We almost bought that house,” my father always saideach time we drove by.He doesn't go down that street anymore.What could have been taunts him from the sidewalks —two little girls and a bucket of…

Future Imperfect, a Jeremiad

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the birth of a long, dark age// where the wealthy will be eaten by the poor/ and the poor will be eaten by disease

The Red Suitcase: (Conclusion)

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—You must be joking, he laughed.

SHADOW

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I am a shadow. Cooler than liquid. I don't need a container to take shape.

thumbing through the Jesus book

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We’re on our way out, my brother and me, to the grave­yard.

Hell and back...

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Sarge had done this before. Not with this many rookies and not on a one-way trip. This was a suicide mission. The boys didn't know it, but he did. They weren't coming back. Hell, they couldn't come back

Reversal

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The stunned son knelt to understand then fell, his heart shredded by the hollow point.

Final Score: Reality – 1; Desire – 0

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His velvet mouth, shaped perfectly to intertwine with hers, teases the space between them until its caress finds her.

The Tale of Gary Von Gross

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Gather 'round children, For it's high time to tell, The story of a strange man With a horrible, awful smell. For this is a story More disgusting than most. This is the gruesome tale Of Gary Von Gross. With a house made…

Guns in the House

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Jack would have felt betrayed, and my parents alarmed, had they ever suspected me of playing with Jack's guns, but I found the temptation overwhelming.

Courtly Love, a tail

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They're bound to wonder what sort of offspring we'll hatch. We've done the tests, we are cross-fertile.

Fine Yellow Dust

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In the dream Yesler rolled, a broad avenue made of fine yellow dust, from Third down toward Second, and I made my way in the silence and bright morning air. To my left on the corner of Second stood the old Mocambo cafe and lounge, home to drag…

SoliTaire

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She couldn’t help but wonder what 93 year-old Sohrabjee looked for in the torn, dusty lithograph of Marilyn in Persia one of the orderlies had stuck to the wall of the corridor outside Jasmine Wing decades ago.

3 Poems

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We have always been a trashy species./ We study ourselves by examining/ garbage-- a pile of mussel shells here,

Pitspits

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a perpetrated fraud

The Good Farmer

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He leans in close then, close enough that when he speaks, his words tiptoe out and tuck me in.

The Edge of Night

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The night wrapped its arms around us as we drove west, taking the highway past Medford towards Philly. The kids were asleep in the backseat and we were both counting the mile markers, staring out the windows with quiet eyes. I listened to the drone of the…

Thin Flame

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It was impossible that you wouldn't love me

Miss Havisham's Fire

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. . . catching her breath somewhere between ecstasy and surprise. . .

Much Ado About Exploring.

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John was sitting at his computer one night after work, when he read an article linked to him by a friend.

Thanks for Looking After Sinamyn

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Here are a few tips/instructions to help you out (though I'm sure you'll do just fine by yourself!):Getting to the Apt.:If you're coming from Riverside, you'll want to turn onto Magnolia. So, if you're coming from north to south on Riverside, that means you'll want to turn…