Most read stories

Five Being Ten at the New Afterlife Dance Theatre

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We got our holes in our hearts bundled onto soft wrapping cloth just like the gentleman on TV said; with smiles we set out towards our matching end of the same old stories. That's just the way…

On Second Thought

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when thoughts of you waffle in through memories scent

Why No One Writes Epics Anymore

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No one writes epics anymore. Why? Perhaps it's because we no longer share mythologies. Once there was a shepherd, and now there is a Google bus loaded with pricks. Yes, you say, but they are good at math. Each and every one of them. And this is true. I envy them…

So Many Questions?

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“Are you my neighbor in 3D?” Was she?

Charlotte and the Avalanche of Hope

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”My goodness how that child nurses hope,” Edward’s Grandad would often say, “were it not for her where indeed would this family be?”

Cheese (train writings)

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"This tastes like goat cheese," I said.

At the Fair

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You're on the Ferris wheel, and the wind is blowing just a little bit, and the sky is invisible behind a wash of white clouds, and your little yellow box tips when you look down, down to the fairway swinging. In the boxes below grandmothers are shrieking …

Salt

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I imagined the crystals in my mouth. Salt flowers blooming on my tongue.

Momma and Me

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On Saturdays, we pull out big white poster boards, magic markers, and draw babies.

#HOWRU

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Where you used to exist, there will only be spaces.

FLY AWAY

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Why is the sky grey he asked meI don't know, I saysudden flashes of light snowbloat the cloudssea gulls are squawkingexpect them to peck at my headI have nothing to feed them

Octopus

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My ride, my good friend Morning was due any minute, but of course, he/she was always late. My costume was a dog. I was stuck to another dog, in the act of passion. A stuffed one. A basset hound. I said my name was Lightning.

Cartoon Campfire

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This is the parallel room I keep my heart in. Got a solo fireplace. I don't want to invite anything else into the story. It doesn't matter if no one knocks on the door ever again. I'm too shy to hope for much more than a couple of Interesting shadows…

Why We Need To Keep Writing

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We need to keep writing because the great ones aren’t always that great We need to keep writing to insure that the future even has a future We need to keep writing because the wind won’t know how or when to listen if we don’t

Based on Origins (Mother Tongue)

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I almost forgot. Her nipples taste like that syrup from a can of peaches. The kind you aren’t supposed to eat if you are 18 or older. The kind that adds baggage to the hips and I’m certainly not about to take out an insurance policy on my ass.

Irish Drunk

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Your honour stinks of failed fishing trips to Galway.

Inconstant Nature

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I think for a second that I should have called my husband out to witness this thing, but I am instantly made aware of why I have not.

Cleaning House

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If you've ever cleaned house because a death is coming,you know it's the same as any other kind of cleaning.Wipe the tables.Pick up the floor.Sweep the crumbs under the carpet.For later.And for the ants.It's different, too.Because you're floating.On caffeine.On muffled…

Christmas Magic

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You know what parents have to do to get an Xbox? They don't just stand in line and someone hands them an Xbox, OK? That's sacrifice. They have to sacrifice and sacrifice and sacrifice. I mean, I chase alpacas a mile every night in subfreezing conditions,

Mortality

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The list of things to live for/ shortens with age. The list of regrets/ lengthens.

Why the World's Fireflies Are Being Counted

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We got Bob Dylan on the wall wriggling from the lack of music and light among the spheres A great doubt has been raised and can be seen from far, far away for they are even afraid now in heaven that things can’t be going right and to

Reflections Over Jalpeños

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It seemed like only yesterday that she was making sure to remember bottles for Hunter and now he was eating regular adult food, and they were looking into tutors for next year, and Hunter was nearly four. Her runty Hunty umpkins was going to be four.

Crescent City, Spring '97

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It takes almost an hour before I drift to sleep on the bus. When I wake up in Crescent City, I’m surprised. Maybe I was going somewhere else in my sleep. Walking out of the station, it feels like a strange place. Somewhere I’ve never been before. The

The Fifth Snatch

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...oh shit...

Ricky's Condition

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At first it was just holding hands and talking about Ricky's condition. Then it was leaning into each other on the sofa, Ben whispering my name into my hair, me wanting to put my hand on his thigh.

No Nows Now

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. . . did you notice yesterday afternoon how for an entire quarter hour five o’clock itself looked for a few minutes as if it would never arrive?

Notes on Consulting the 'Owner's Manual for the Human Mind'!

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[CAUTION: TO PREVENT ELECTRIC SHOCK, DO NOT REMOVE COVER. NO USER-SERVICEABLE PARTS INSIDE. REFER SERVICE TO QUALIFIED SERVICE PERSONNEL.]

Fulfillment

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And she's dying like someone who's tried living and failed.

Disappearing Ink

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Our ink was disappearing. All of it.

GONE

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The box thuds at your feet: mug, plant, wedding photo, the 25-year pen.