Most read stories

Longshot Down Undah

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He said stuff like ‘Crikey that's a knife',” she said, “it was bad, really really bad.”

The Beast Remembers Its Broken Promise and Starts to Cry

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It's a good thing too—because Of the way that feeling Made her even more beautiful than usual. You shouldn't doubt such an obvious Feeling. It's a good thing— Because frankly you have Been informed before. When Beauty …

Museum of Everything

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It is the monad.

Haiku For My Old Neighbour

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Old man lives next door

February 1964

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New York, New York The winter drizzle left the streets shiny like in movies and this night Manhattan looked like it should look, vibrant, clean and sparkling. It was…

The Tapeworm of Selfish Mammon Eats All the Good Will in the World

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She caretakes, he takes care

SHADOW

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

Still Crazy After All These Years

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Dr. van Roos reminded the group that trauma is trauma...

Arcana Magi Zero - c.1

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The moon is now at the corner on pace for the horizon. On top of a tall business building in Downtown Newark stop a woman in a hood cloak.

Removals

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Her mother was worried.

In the Alley

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as i sink down into the shadows crawling like a worm past cold bricks centuries old in my blood

Once There Was A Man

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And there sat one man. Searching for words and solace. The silence returned and the colors peeled off from the walls. Darkness returned with fledgling light. He threw back his head and filled the emptiness with his laugh. He laughed in mirth and in misery

Questions Dog First Pooch's Kennel Papers

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The White House released only a short-form pedigree certificate, which “breeders” claim bears signs of alteration. “The ‘K’ in the middle of ‘AKC’ is longer than the other letters, like an El Greco on an acid trip.”

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…

Cinnamon Doughnuts and a Neenish Tart

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Mr Robertson chuckled gently as he caught the aroma of freshly cooked cinnamon doughnuts and watched the oil leave its fingerprints.

The Work of Beauty

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the steady, persistent work of beauty

I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien

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You can’t start living in The Netherlands just like that; you need to be registered first. Once an official has confirmed you’re the person you claim to be, you can start in a job. Once an employer has confirmed you’re employed, you can apply for yo

Nest

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He spends his Sunday morning spraying WD-40 through the straw-like stream attachment at the expansive paper nest of beige and ivory striped wasps.

A Body Divided, 3

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A group of nuns arrived in the middle of my first night at Hinsdale Hospital. I guess I must have dozed off when this odd noise, like curtains being moved, woke me up. At first I couldn't make out what that rustling sound was in the hallway outside my doo

Spoiled Meatloaf

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In a small, cozy diner lived a homemade meatloaf. The meatloaf spent its days lounging on a warm plate with some mashed potatoes and sweet corn. Together they watched television, argued about sports, and ate blueberry pie...

The Meaning of Life

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One must not confuse the meaning / of life with the joy of living

Key West with Poo and Company

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Excerpt from Flamingo …

There is a feeling in my hands,

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There is a feeling in my hands, fingers, a restive, potential energy, drawing inward, reaching

Latté plus

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Hurried, hassling suit in front of me is being awful to the barista. So she refuses to serve him, turning away.

Remember the Maine

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He remembered waking up on those lazy summer days hearing the sad song of mourning doves.

Scarf

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Phil doesn’t know anything. He thinks his truck is possessed by his dead mother.

Game Day

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Being awake for the sunrise, that is the good planfor writing poemsand listening to enginesbirdsand bus stop silence.Now, I'm going to smokeout back on my roof porchfrom this atticapartmentin this desert land of big-titted blondesand listen to stadium fansrage…

Our Graves

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But no matter how we died, we all end up here, in the Meadowlark Children's Cemetery.

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…

Takin' a Break

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The place turns out to have a really nice ambiance, and while the pasta is only passable—though I ordered, I believe, the cheapest plate on the menu, so maybe I got what I deserved—the background dinner music playing is "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" by Wilco.