Most read stories

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.3 - c.3

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Sora collapsed on the wall to Azure’s squeals. She felt her arm lifted up and placed around Azure’s shoulder.

The Tale Of Brave Grinelda

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Once upon a time in the days of old There lived a poor tailor who- I am told- Did brag that his daughter Spun straw into gold!

Lives and their rivers

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The pristine Hudson's/waters dance in the dark of/the East River's rinse.

Owl, Glass, Deer

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He calls it an owl glass: he’s allowed: he’s six.

Against Disorder

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It is true that the college dogs spread vermin, reeked and shat on the soccer field...

Midnight Mass

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Mom wraps a bulky-knit scarf around my face and over my mouth. She tightens it into a big knot in back of my collar.

Three Wives

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The heart attack felt like the time Alison stabbed me with knitting needles. It made me want to see her. She was the fun wife, the first of three. I was morbid and full of regret — my drinking had driven them away, no kids in the wake. I decided to visit all of…

Five Million Yen: Chapter 9

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Naked Lady? I know that from somewhere. Then he remembered. That's what they called those old 1930's and 40's Conn saxophones, Naked Ladies. How would Smith know that?

Peter's Office

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This is Peter’s office. The room is small, and the wood paneling is painted white. Light colors, Peter has been told, make a room appear larger.

Assiduity Two

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I'm old enough to be her father.

The Well

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It was by the well on one cold early spring morning

A Christmas Story

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I pay for 3 Trump Troll Dolls and a package red licorice twizzlers and head back toward the door. Dancing Gnome Girl is there to greet me. I stick a twizzler in the teeth of the donation pail.

PARK

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Shadows from a star Never too close Never too far

Tokyo Girls in Science Fiction

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Let’s say you know so little about me. Like whose idea of a joke to name me Hideo for excellent male. Or why I hang out at triangle Park, ogling expatriates or crusty punks.

That Dark Spot

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A week ago, Lina had felt a pain crack over her right eyebrow. It was there every day, creeping from her ear to the middle of her forehead.

1994, What I Wanted

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Xanax, A hand gun, And the courage to pull the trigger

Combinatorics

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“I'm thinking about math class,” she said. “The solution to three factorial.” “Easy,” Leo said.

SERVICE

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a girl with wolves, dogs and a bear

The End of Fun and Games

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A procession of our somber youth— stoned and stunned and broken beyond repair—viewed the boy carved of putty. The mortician painted him stuffed him, presented him to us, the semi-living.

Our Merchant-Ivory Weekend

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“A shibboleth is a test—a way to separate da wheat from da chaff that's as old as the Bible, but as new as the latest trend in men's fashions,” Gus says.

Taking A Walk

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13 rooks on a lifeless tree

If I Could Locate the Tether that Keeps Me Here I Would Chew Off the Limb That It's Tied To

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She is face down in the snow

we're already at the movies

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israeli flares light gaza/ casting incandescent nudity/ upon jumbled puzzle piece buildings.

Larry's "Gonna Die" Parrtayye

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When we started plans for the party, none of us wanted Larry to die, most of all Larry himself. Actually, when we first started plans for the party, Larry wasn’t dying.

The Devil Line is a Violin (ELECTRIC DELIRIUM 1.1)

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Rosea plays a bohemian plainsong for the cosmonauts among us, while her fuzzy apple hips spit glitter, spin strobes: pink shades of pantyline flicker; lip-licked neon hues scrape strings in B sharp, a gloomy clue.

Yellow Dining Room (from The New Yorker)

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...you should pick a VERY OLD millionaire. Very old, and NOT VERY WELL...

Nadja on Nadja -- an excerpt

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"I would like my pictures to look as if a human being had passed between them, like a snail, leaving a trail of the human presence, memory trace of past events, as the snail leaves its slime." Francis bacon “Feminine …

Seeking...

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I'm subconsciously a sucker for guys who are no good for my self-esteem. Or waistline.

An Unheeded Return

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On an over­cast and humid day in August, Jesus—with Dad’s per­mis­sion, of course—decided to make his grand return.

Bron-yr-Aur

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The night we broke into Bron-yr-Aur it was too cold to make love. I said I wasn't horny anyway. You put your hand on my forehead: Are you ill?