Most read stories

Easter

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Marge didn't eat lamb or pork.

Puerility

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--So, why are you here?

The Wolves of Night Time Wrinkle Their Noses at the Thought of Running Towards the Sun, But Do it Any Ways

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Jesus was a cancer survivor and possibly a super nova.He ran with the Wolves of night time, with the women of the paleolithic era and hunted for meat when the blood didn't drip to their feet and create veritable red shoes like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.I am no longer in…

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.

O'Arlo's Journal: About Myself

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Every morning if I don't have to go potty....

The Comedian

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Sitting near her desk, like a dunce cap, red

The Clarity of Loss

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This year I did not markthe day of your death.I let it slip by in an afternoonfilled with music you'll never hear,words you'll never read,a chorus of voices raised in protestat the unwavering passage of time.I don't need a numberto know that you are gone.Since you went…

King of Pain

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I woke up around 6 pm today. As always, mum would wake me up. I have this special bond with my bed and parting with her during my most vulnerable is anathema to my nature. Thrice mum would pull my feet and thrice I would groan hoping she would go…

The Blonde Bombshell

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We lived across, the street, across North Govenor, from a pretty art student whose stripper name was Jan the Blonde Bombshell.

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?

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.

Framed

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We can apprehend beauty only/ by framing it with the photographic/ paper’s edge or the novel’s margins/ and bookends.

Disappearing Dirt

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The mulch vendor is a crook but we have no choice, not with the shortage of soil. Have to guard the stuff, put alarm wires around the garden, leave a friend in charge to spot the thieves if you go away overnight. If you…

My Expiration Date Approaches

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the doomed, but splendid, first year GT40.

First Blood

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...dogs snapping at the brush as it spins this way, that way, eluding the slavering jaws by a hairs breadth. The fox twists and rolls, tries every trick, every last desperate one.

Lovelies on the Beach

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He doesn’t intend to lie after this. For now, he just wants to take in the sea and the quiet.

Beasts

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It isn't for you to know

March

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Crows etc.

True Lu

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Lu peeked at his cards again. They were still jacks, and they still looked mighty nice.

Walking To Gibraltar, Chapter 8: In Which Love Is Declared

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Astrid hadn't always hated him. They met at the Beta house in the fall of his junior year. Typical Friday night. Stoned, drinking beer. He and Red Chapman sitting in their room playing guitars. The girls in their blues jeans. The guys from the house hi

Waiting

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She saw no sense in waiting. Waiting was a weakness.

Solar

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Trollo Martinez was wearing a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses and an old LA Community College T-Shirt. He needed to find some water so he could down the 5milligram tab of Ritalin in the palm of his hand.

Sometimes the bear eats you...

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...something darkly malevolent looming above him...

Walking To Gibraltar, Chapter 9: In Which A Cause Is Proffered

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"I think you're a great candidate for a sentinel node biopsy," said Dr. Kartes. They sat in the small, dark office. On the sofa, not touching. She still wouldn't take his hand.

The Fifth Snatch

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...oh shit...

A Poet in a Coffeeshop in the Motherfucking Nineties

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Look at her. She doesn't want to be here. The kiss and “wouldn't miss it for the world” was as empty as her crossed arms, crossed legs, and jittery foot were loaded. She attacked the foam of her latte with a tiny red straw. I wanted to scream. Complain about the…

Books

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It sometimes happens a student remains a friend long after you both have abandon academe.

for one dedicated to artemis

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artemis is but a mincing fawn:/ no sacred bitches need i in my ranks,/ nor hunting dogs to tear a man apart/ when i have teeth enough to bruise fine flanks.

Dr. Norm O. Pathy, M.D.

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He slumped forward, drooling into his lap.

On Socks

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There’s a hole in my sock, just large enough that my big toe keeps slipping out.