Most read stories

Meadows

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The whole thing is broken. It's like an egg. I'm not saying this to get you to say something else in the sunny opposite direction of the tattooed scar upon my painted backyard scene. I don't really care. It's only on me. Not on you. I'm glad as…

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.

What We Know but Can’t Describe

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We know them just enough/ to recognize them when we find them.

How To Write a Poem

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an EZ How to Guide in 50 simple steps

once upon a time in Sumeria (2)

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THE man in the tent with the stick points to the chart on the wall and says to us all: the stats point to the end of the war by the end of the fall. A just war, not just oil. Just then Allah's shadow comes over the scene. He's here to stiffen his troops with some …

9/11

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He laughs and runs just like the other boys even though he doesn’t have a father now, just his mom.

en/core

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(vogued.)

Seeking...

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

SERVICE

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a girl with wolves, dogs and a bear

Flush

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"Nice one, sir," the toilet said.

Mosaic

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MOSAIC Your eyes coal-rimmed, busted, burned by betrayal. You and I, knee to knuckle, skinny with disorders and blurred around our edges. Challenged by our experience and the ash of past-love dusting the grate, the state, the…

Picture Window

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You call your wife. “Do you see what I see?” you ask.

Real Talk – A Ghost Story

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Tunnel hobos, all hootched up high, think a sign's all about super powers, mind reading, clairvoyance, dig?

West Side of the Tracks

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The bus heads west on Route 36, toward the next stop – Howell, New Jersey. After driving ten minutes, and after crossing the tracks, the bus gets a flat.

Assiduity Six

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"Every generation is a new generation, isn't it? What's so different about your generation?"

Girl With Glasses And Skinny Fingers

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Girl with glasses and skinny fingers playing with wires

not all scars are the same

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All I wanted to know was: Am I coming close? You could have given me a clue. How was I to know how deep the scar ran? I always thought scars were superficial, but I was young, and willing – what did I know? What would they have done if they had come

Taking A Walk

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13 rooks on a lifeless tree

What I Am

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I am a happy cog

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.

Against Disorder

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

Stretching to Understand

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You looked like someone I didn't want to know. I guess that's why I got in the car that night. My penchant for self-destruction was aroused by your black nail polish and the lavender circles under your eyes. You looked like someone that could hurt me, yeah, that's why I got…

Hubbled

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The nearsighted world/ puts on its lenses

My Name is William Hurt and I Am a Movie Star

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Not to sound too ridiculous, but Hurt was giving me the hurt, and it felt good.

Natural Histories I

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I feel about the universe/ as Abrahamics are supposed/ to feel about their Yahweh, /their God, and their Allah:/ I am in fear, I am in awe, /I am in love.

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.

Text Adventure

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Twenty-two tornadoes tore through Toronto, spiraling steel and stone to the streets where she stood, texting her best friend.

Moony Star Moony Star

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a lost children…

How Would Jesus Drive?

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Contemporary persecution of Christians takes on milder forms of torture like having to explain away something Pat Robertson said, or constantly having to hear about Fred Phelps picketing funerals because he happens to hate homosexuals.

Jimmy and the Ark

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Yes, he'll be quiet. Very quiet. He rocks himself, the ark, suddenly imagining water underneath him, over head, all around. Water, water, water—