Most read stories

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

Undercover With the Weird Religious Divorce Rules Unit

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An undercover agent posed as an Orthodox Jewish woman in a sting operation that led to the arrest of two rabbis for kidnapping men who refused to grant divorces to their wives.

I Have a Hard Time Having a Good Time

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At the third or fourth discotheque I drink so much I accidentally find myself happy.

Every time we kiss, my hair falls out

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I’m in high leather boots; I’m talking many dead cows here and I respect that

Filth and Splendor: A Love Story

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Solomon just makes people leak. Literally.

The Poetry of Wallace Stevens' Secretary

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What in the name of God’s green earth does this say? “Chifferobe if you can of Aztec in coffee can”?

You Atop Franz Josef Glacier, Twelve Miles From the Tasman Sea

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58 words

Invisible Grime

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Most everything is white because white means clean and hospitals are supposed to be clean. They wouldn’t let me leave.

Burned by Shoplifting, One Store Turns to a Higher Power

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Most loss control specialists wear standard rent-a-cop outfits, but notSister Joseph Arimathea and Sister Mary Clarus, who wear the grey, white and black habits of the Precious Blood Sisters.

Ibby's Falafel

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Dark hung over the night like an occupation force. Across the street a Cuban diner fought it off with green and yellow neon lights, Latin rhythm beating through the air.

Lewti & Loki

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I had no portent this would occur, / Ne'er did I see this happening, / Not days before, nor those coming;

You Say Sorry Just For Show

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The last of your tenuous septum dissolves when you press the nozzle of the neti pot against it.

GOT

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I don't know how long I was down on the curb. When I came around it took several minutes to realize that it wasn't the moon overhead at all but a street light and the sticky feeling stuff I was lying in was, yeah, my blood. And the hand on my shoulder wasn't hers. I…

A Piece of the Sky

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For the briefest moment, she was part of the sky. She hung there. Frozen. Suspended. Arms outstretched. She thought maybe she could take off flying, if she strained against gravity hard enough. She would soar into the pale blue until she reached the clouds. They …

True Lu

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

Snatch 8 (the zombie flash sequence--it never dies)

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Oh, gracious mercy, oh...

The Comedian

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Sitting near her desk, like a dunce cap, red

What is your favorite body part?

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Hideki likes the uncomfortable face one makes when trying to "break wind" after eating too many dried potatoes.

Road Trip

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I threw my hand / at the gearshift/ the car glided off.

A Brief, Protracted Reflection

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...Loves and fights and retires; / And dies.

This Is A Warning

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Walking home, carrying his guitar case, Jed felt the sums of his life adding up to dangerously high numbers, the deadly inertia of vaguely comfortable apathy swallowing his time. His moment would soon be fading. Because, like many young men before him, Jed…

Boardroom Bullshit

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Push the envelope

Flannery O'Connor's Tea Party

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“He's the one who took five tries to find your vein during your last blood draw, right?” This question spilled from the row of twenty EKG machines that now made up the hospital building's larynx

Woman On A Bicycle

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And the ocean was black and green and blue—as your dress that clung to your body’s curve. Round as the bend of the water trailing the false line of the shore.

In The Kitchen

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drips of blood vegetal

Dropped stones, skimmed skin

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Skim. The stone slipped across the top of the water. The sea was a battleship grey with a liver of cerulean, foaming at the lips its puckered kisses smacking on the shore.

Phantom

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I am in the hallway, but I don’t sense it. That is to say: I don’t feel my body. I am like a phantom, a limbless entity floating, flailing.

Appeasement

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No, I’m not at the junior high bus stop. I’m at the dining room table with my parents.

You deserve to be choked around your lying throat and this how it happens, slowly.

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Writing as a form of imaginative hatred