Most read stories

Small Budget Poems

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Toxins make a body happy/ as if acceleration toward// an end of consciousness/ is its own reward.

Good morning, Mr. Mourning!

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Now, I am getting angry! Now you want me depressed too! GET OUT! GET OUT!

The Serious Writer’s Obituary

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...was discovered today hanging from a shower outlet in his bathroom...

I Took Part in 5 Orgies, Which I Liked, and Got Pounded into Shit

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[PARTY.]

Sewing the Labyrinth

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If girls have keys for fingers then locks cannot hold them.

The Rising Tide

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I'm just a rental dog myself looking for the guardian of starlight peeing on the expired parking meters and barking up all the wrong trees.

Oyster

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I used to love myselfin hidden burstsforbidden momentsof pleasure in my morning bedlater, I numbedmy senses and stumbled blindlyinto wild sensationsof releaseand called itecstasyintensity is a drugfear, grief, anger,as seductive as joy,makes the heart pump,the blood rush…

Truth

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…assume...

Air On The G String

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If love could only by heat be bound

Song of the Needle

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The Black Thing spread over the room, eating away his mother's face as well as the doctors and nurses who dashed in a frenzy around him until they too were swallowed in the black singing cloud.

1.

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I follow what pulls me forward.

Her Head Sounserals Away

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"Bortne! Bortne! Shushort!" she exclaims, shooting her hands over her wobbly head in pleasure, causing it to again pop off. This time, it's a three story drop from a balcony. Terrified, he yells "Sneeeeew nuuuu! Oh nee padoooo!"

I Never Metafiction I Didn't Like

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If you find a nickel-plated Colt .38 lying on top of a worn copy of King Lear, you’ll know who you’re dealing with.

Sonnet for a Unicorn

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My sweet baby angel has baby hair Baby angel has a golden cross lit looking at the crystal pig and kind mare The drowning unicorn comes from the waves in fits. My sweet baby angel has baby talkBaby angel has a diamond shape scarburied heart shaped…

Superlative Land

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You are walking through a canyon made of shelving units lined with colorful masterpieces of three-dimensional minimalist design

Flight Path

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Those who love aluminum bellies and landing gear and ailerons... that ilk... settled at the western edge of of LAX 24R 6L and called the encampment Flight Path.

For the Wives

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She parks the car and trudges insidefor her daily visithoping that the new rouge hidesthe old tears.Five years now she has been comingto see himHe looks nothing like the pictures toanyone but her.They say she should go homeand rest, relaxShe doesn't know how…

Hitting the Wall

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I tried to talk, but only / whispers slithered out.

Return Trip

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Lou Ann and Bobby drove in from Slidell and had a small, New Orleans wedding with just a one night honeymoon at the Monteleone because the next morning Bobby had to go. It was barely daylight as Lou Ann kissed him goodbye several times and blew him kisses as his cab pulled…

What the Bay Broke

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This summer they had reached their fifth anniversary, the landmark they’d dubbed the Bacchanal year. Instead of exchanging gifts made of wood, they’d bought expensive wines and champagnes and emancipated their bodies of clothing for two straight days. The

Night & Day

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It was oddly quiet, and the air had a strangely urgent quality. The sun came out, and water on the leaves and branches turned oaks and aspens into Christmas trees.

Low Tide

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Her whole life was lived between high tide and low tide, moments of giggling grandeur and moments of sheer emptiness.

Freddy in the Future

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

White Legs

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...lotus roots carved with clunky holes like a mouse’s drawing of Swiss cheese.

Dudes Who Want To Be Her Boyfriend

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She says he is not a real person. He says he doesn't understand. And that she should be with the dudes who want to be her boyfriend.

The Yellow Room

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...the knives she laid out on the porch before her husband left her, washed and dried, set neatly by copper pennies.

All is Ready

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All is Ready I have bathed in patchouli oil and my hair gleams, lustrous with brushing. I am wearing my gold ankle bracelets with the ruby charms that my love gave me when we had been married one year. My robe is fuschia silk and under it I wear…

Lost

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“It’s lost. Lost and gone. Forever. My love for you. I’m sorry.”

The Swimmer

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He got tired of the pool party, the chit-chat, the suburban posturing, and he decided to swim home.

Watching

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An anorexic middle-aged woman walked up and watched me..