Most read stories

Walking To Gibraltar, Chapter 16: In Which Frank Learns Six Lessons

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He can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe turns the handle can't breathe falls onto the front porch gasping in the cold night air. And Dad is lying on the smoldering carpet in the parlor. And all the kids are upstairs. And he swallows the air. And ever

Temporary Housing

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My cats are my world and more. They are rotund, little indoor-girl cats, though, who were taken from their mother too early to learn things like hunting and properly washing their privates, and so they think the mouse is just another interesting thing to

Meeting Adjourned

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Once a month I fuck the boss. It’s not part of my job description. We have a meeting in her office, after thirty minutes she opens the door to what appears to be a storeroom but is actually a well-appointed fuck chamber ...

Selfish Success

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I wear my gun so it shows, so everyone knows.

My No. 1

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I remember meeting you many years later.

Two Micros

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She always wore a little smile. When she took off her robe, the class grew quiet.

For Kate

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I had to kill someone today. Do not be alarmed, she was only real to me.

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…

Good morning, Mr. Mourning!

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

The Lot

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The inhabitants of the surrounding neighborhood steered clear of the Lot, mindful of its existence, its countless drags of scrap, drenched with the fused association of many scenes and emotions from memory and experience. Left to its own devices, the place is now…

The Serious Writer’s Obituary

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

Accounting

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It shouldn’t take that long to count/ to six but when the six are cats, arithmetic/ assumes Heisenbergian properties/ as the objects counted defy the count.

Anxieties of Absence

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On beach trips with our families, there were bumper cars, jet skis; flash enjoyments, beach-themed distractions.

Frances at Virginia Beach

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My husband waits for him to hurt himself. The boy drinks red wine between movements, Staring hypnotically at the back Of a girl’s head.

Curse at Your Smoking Gun

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// opening act: van featuring balloon featuring drugs // headliner: lubv ya babe

A House Burning

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There won't be dancing, anymore. That isn't true, that can't be true; but there is no floor to dance on, you know?

Just Do It

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He is sitting in his bedroom trying to decide what to wear. He has an appointment at five. If he wants to make it he has to either catch the bus, which comes in about fifteen minutes, or drive in. If he wants to drive in he needs to put petrol in his car,

End of Daze

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Be it a moment of zen, an epiphany, a vision, or even an ill-tempered chinese food inflicted dream, I've seen what's been shrouded carefully behind you… ahead of me.

Story Board

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There was something about his eyes that seemed more sly than happy. He looked like a teamster winking at a mayor who’d just paid him off to keep trucks rolling through Scranton.

The Girl With the Dresden Blue Eyes

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Your girlfriend with the Dresden blue eyes with the sleek belly & gorgeous scars from ripping off Avenue A dealers has you on a leash of short-term amnesia. You can't recall the last time you got off from being trigger-happy inside her & you formed a…

Finder Girl

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We fold it end over end, meeting in the middle where she takes it, and I let go...

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 18

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We all ran out of the house into the communal garden without fences. There stood Von Rotten with a smoking rifle in his hands, and our mascot Digger lying on his side, limp. We all looked at each other in disbelief.

Crooning

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It was a lover’s dark. They had been talking for hours when daylight lost interest and had gone elsewhere for sport.

Dad and the Red Light

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The light turns green.

Librarians Love Me!

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Librarians love me, you want to know why? I don’t dog-ear pages, I don’t even try.

Raw Sugar

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Take shelter from the rain inside the Museum of Sex.

Lost

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

The Scenes Speak for Themslves

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We are the images, the tableau vivant, the one-person shows, the scenes from scattered plays. We wait for the Caretaker who prompts us to play and replay one by one on her rounds.

and Henry Rollins as Lydia Grant

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At this stage of the game you don't even matter enough to have an asshole.

Written Six Weeks Before

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March 16, 2006 My mail, e-mail, and phone calls go from the ridiculous to the sublime. Apologies for the cliché, but I can't resist its perfect applicability: In my mailbox today yet another catalogue of boob jobs in bikinis and an invitation to explore…