Most read stories

Centipede

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Five o’clock, and Madame choosing her evening legs. Elizabeth assisting. Elizabeth will continue to assist until midnight, despite the chaos, at which point the authorities will tell her such assistance is no longer necessary.

Sex Tape

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When he suggested to her that they make a sex tape, because that’s what everyone was doing, she wasn’t really surprised. And there was a truly repugnant part of it that fit in with her desire for moral self-flagellation.

Too Fast to be Fat

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As it turns out, hypertravel is surprisingly slimming.

More from the Chronicles of His Demise

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Only scotch and cheap champagne/ retain their reliable flavors.

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

the difference between child-dread and grown-up-dread is the paycheck keeps the tears away

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the first day of preschool/ my mother walked me down the street/ to a tall building that cut/ like a knife made of bricks/ right into the street,/ an american flag/ sticking straight out/ just above the door.

care & danger

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When Roger was small his two favorite toys were a tiny, squat doll called Care and a rubber millipede.

Low Clouds

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We lay in what we have made, minute fleshy bullets in the target we have made.

Beasts

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It isn't for you to know

Pretend

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The Good Boy

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I blinked the darkness out of my eyes and saw the man again; I could smell his breath. Just like dad’s. I must have fallen asleep. My eyes felt so heavy. I was cold. Why was I cold?

Bosch's Last Words

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I / go my / way alone

Biodegradability

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As a boy I fished under the Tappan Zee bridge which spans the Hudson River above New York City.

Sea Shell

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Useless.

Now

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‘Miguel! A pint of Guinness, please!' I might as well have asked for his mother's immortal soul. A smile as benign as a stiletto. But he served a clean and tidy pint.

Freddy in the Future

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“Me try anything,” he says, then laughs a little. “You’re fucked.”

Darkroom Tech

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Entering that darkroom is like slipping through the barrel of a rifle.

GONE

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

Last Bell

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Coward, cuckold, she taunts: So be it. He's not a young man anymore, nor as clever as he once was, or thought.

Leda and the Swan: Paul Gauguin

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Leda looks back over her shoulder at us as the swan grips her from behind while at the same time nipping at the nape of her neck. She's a freckled child and a little frightened. There's a dark smudge beneath her eye where the shadow runs. The swan

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…

Arion, the poet

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Nearly everyone knows of that celebrated poet’s story coming down to us from classical Greek mythology: the tragic tale of Orpheus and his descent into the underworld to rescue his beloved Eurydice. Well, there’s a much lesser known story of a legendary 7

How to Fuck Kanye West (Up the Ass) by Donald Trump

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[marbles] [blither-blather] [blarg]

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…

Just leave it and get out.

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The money stank on the table. Money is dirty she said, one of the dirtiest things. So many people touch it. This pile of brine would not explain its reek, only demanded that we accepted its stench as requisite. It had to have been the cash that stank, prior to its arrival…

Air On The G String

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If love could only by heat be bound

On Socks

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

March

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Crows etc.

Sacred

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"What the fuck are you looking at, Carl?" She snaps, turning her head toward me as the truck edges off the road and into a field of tobacco, into those broad green leaves of ancient sacristy and modern ablution. This is not a blissful kind of field. It is not full…

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