Most read stories

Milkmen

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I can barely pick out the numbers on the houses

So Few Dreams

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So few dreams are the doors they seem.

When To Wear Mascara

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it's time for the cold, antiseptic cloth to briskly remove the evidence.

The Kept Man

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If the Titanic rises from the bottom of the sea, I will meet you on deck, in a deck chair. Fully dressed for a change.

The Concord of This Discord

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-Love is a rushing of blood

30 East Towards Texarkana

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44 miles out the gauntlet of Red River pines cast shadows pointing north.

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.

Human Resources

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Lawrence Light had two degrees: business and theology. I liked the clean font he chose for his resume. At the interview, his face was open. His eyes were bright.

Shakespeare's Dark Lady -- John Hudson (review disguised as fiction)

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William Shakespeare (a surname that meant "wanker" back in the day, by the way)

Liking in "The Scarlet Letter"

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like the dome of an immense lamp like blades of grass at the sweep of the scythe like a line of cliffs against a tempestuous tide

Final Phases of a Secret Love

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I keep my love for you in me, / like the egg of a worm,

SNAFU (March Paddy Whacker Challenge)

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The unpublished writer remembered the carnage that surrounded his Foxhole in France and decided he was done praying. All around lay the evidence that no one was listening. The drunken pastor stumbled away.

Last Words

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I met Barry Hannah once in my life. I’d come to Oxford, MS, to meet an entirely different writer whom I thought then and think now very highly of. I’d also come to escape from another slew of regrets. Oxford is a great city to run away to.

Pre-determination

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She never saw me pull the wings off live flies or throw wood lice in the fire just to see them shrivel, drown a beetle in a stream of warm pee.

Ode To Poetry Slams

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It is a dark and stormy night, naturally We’re trying to get some sleep at a Travelodge in Eureka when I get up at 3 a.m. to write “Hard motel pillow receives snoring from neighboring room” O Thesaurus, we need another word Maybe it sh

Give Tongue

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"Penning a slight of tongue well versed or worse, a salacious lie..."

I Am Speckles the Clown

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Food is silly. Eating is silly. Yet the camaraderie of sharing a table is not silly. It is sacred. It becomes silly when the jello arrives.

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.

A Place in the Sun

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What grabbed the mind when you heard about it was the way he did it.

Wandering the Streets of Fitzrovia

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I’m deathly afraid of the pub crawls of my ancestors, through Bohemia and Fitzrovia because of the ghosts of alcohol already etched inside my veins and the headlong loss of oxygen

Hobby Lobby

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In human rights, a man and a woman may marry and bring forth a family. It is a civil right in the U.S. but not a human right (as far as I know) to raise a child singly without the knowledge of the other parent.

What you're waiting for.

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I figure maybe I’m mostly alone; they are all running down staircases or falling down fire escapes, some of them naked, some of them with towels, mostly probably naked though.

The Monolingual’s Regret

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Polylinguists lash me with tongues I cannot conjugate

THANKSGIVIKAH

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It was a dark and stormy night.

Mausoleum

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you might as well be blind

Birth of a Tiger

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He was instantly on her, pulling at her nightgown

The Chords are Clean, the Growl is Real

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"Good, it's Link Wray again,"

The Need To Tell Somebody

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He just had to tell somebody. Anybody. So he called up his publisher, L., who agreed to meet him at Oliveira’s for a drink. It only took about ten minutes to walk there from his big duplex in the Elmwood, where he was still living with his wife among

Parts

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Trigger warning: casualties of war.

Under The Tree

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There were echoes all around them, their shadows delirious and only existed in short spurts under the breath of the streetlights. They danced as their cigarettes leaked calligraphy across the night sky and she tried to trace it with her finger. He asked her what it said…