Most read stories

The Art of the Ruin

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The ghosts run before/ attacking horsemen. A heart/ is ruptured by a spear.

Buzzkill.

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[EXPLETIVE DELETED]

If You Have to Have an Ism

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This is a lady who never got a break.

Salt Water

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A horizon shrinks a burden until it’s a seagull getting fat off vinegar fries. I’m in love with the way your mouth moves when you aren’t talking. When it fills with salt.

Good Fences

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I built the fence myself, strong and high and aesthetically pleasing. It was high enough to provide privacy on both sides, but from my bedroom balcony I could see everything. More than I wanted to see.

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…

Pick Me

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Strike me down hard, bolt of pure blue, laser focus square, blast of hydrogen nuclear, knock me on the keister, blind me down, oh Lordy Lord Lord.

Springtime

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Bert also said that somebody else at the meeting was complaining about his high blood pressure, and Bert repeated what Hank had said, that he was glad to have any blood pressure at all.

Enough, Trump

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Enough, Trump.We've had it my dear, with your pink ties, your hairs, your swagger, towers, your plenty of monies,your tempers, your honeys. I don't speak for all, not at all, but for many who never did like your style or bile, your tenacious temerity,…

Modest Proposal

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It could be fun,/ with the guns, explosives, Molotov/ Cocktails and all,

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

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”?

The Department of Lost Dreams

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You would think that a department responsible for recovering readers from falling into the illusory realities of their books would merit an office in a less obvious state of disrepair.

To my own two feet

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When I first arrived/footling-breeched/you two were there/ahead of me.

Or Do You Love It?

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published in The Doctor T.J. Eckleburg Review.

Puerility

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--So, why are you here?

Couples

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She served him pie she knew was ruined.

Remember the Maine

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

Arcana Magi Bolt

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Sofia looked around and found herself at a boulevard. She could see the town exit ahead of her. The bike still lied on the ground.

The poet. Pt. 3

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I think I remember now why people write poetry.

History of Moon Velveeta

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Only ever been twelve men on the moon. And one cheese.

Take the 40 Million Years Without Sex Challenge!

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Scientists have determined that a tiny freshwater organism known as the "bdelloid rotifer" gave up sex 40 million years ago. And you thought the spark had gone out of your marriage.

March

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Crows etc.

Independence Day

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Not long ago, Owen the Second showed her a skull. He kept it in a brown cardboard box in the top of the closet. "My first wife," he said, and sneered, his lip bunching up around a scar just under his nose.

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.

Last Visit to the Toy Store

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The two walked around, taking in all the classics: the imported Russian matryoshka dolls of varying styles and bright colors; spinning tops, red Radio Flyer wagons, kaleidoscopes, and wooden yo-yo's invoked memories of Christmases past. The hand-stitched

The serious writer and her bush

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The serious writer looks back on a long and distinguished career as an herbologist.

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.

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.

Out of the Question

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"Then why? Why?" she choked. "Why are you so... so mean to me?"