Most read stories

Travis & Jared

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“Now I see clearly my whole life is pointed in one direction — there never has been any choice for me (Travis Bickle, "Taxi Driver").

The King's Snit

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Political doggerel.

Burning Trash

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Boys start fires all the time— it's a rite of passage— so when your father gives you the task of setting fire to the family's trash, you don't mind, and when the flames ignite inside the old dishwasher he heaved into the woods behind the house, you…

Grandma (My Mother) At Christmas

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A tanka/haiku poem about grandma getting run over by a reindeer.

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.

Mountains

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Epiphany on a July Morning

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It's that day in July when you feel really bummed because you can't find your favorite white sleeveless shirt that you wear on the hottest days of the yea

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.

Fanmail to Ellen Page

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You and I will never meet. You will never even know I existed. Even in dreams you will never imagine me. Someone told me once that your sleeping mind cannot conjure up new faces. It just spits out all the ones you’ve ever seen and that’s it. That’s it.

Stomping the Big Ozarka Bottle Flat

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I dream of benzene rings/ and polymer shrouds

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.

Above the River's Edge

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On the plains there are no cliffs, no vast mountain ranges to persuade us that we were somewhere above the world. Yearning to escape the pull of the Earth was the big dream of a plains boy…

Something New

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You see the ocean for the first time on our honeymoon. Your large feet dig deep into the muddy sands of the Maryland coastline as your blue eyes swell at the infinite water before you. I wrap my…

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.

Excommunicado

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not every punishment proceeds / without a hitch

Origins

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I was sleeping the night of a hurricane party. I awoke to lightning flashes. They lit the undersides of descending clouds, and lit the shadows of scattering dancers. The hurricane must have turned inland.

Tin Girl

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Like some beautiful yet macabre puppet, she was suspended on strings of wire, painstakingly threaded tubing flowing into her cavities, through her chambers, around her mechanics.

Eucharist

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The Devil and the Holy Ghost played Euchre on Friday nights. The Devil drank rock and rye and the Holy Ghost went for Miller Lite. What just irks hell out of me, pardon my French, the Ghost began, is that nobody knows who the fuck I am.

A Place in the Sun

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

6.0 in Eureka

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"Shit," said the Charge Nurse. "Not again."

Black Hole of Beauty

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Surrounded by a stressfull sense of trying to understand the human condition. The flawed characters in the story speak of past violence and conflict. It is about a boy who is dealing with a recent suicide attempt on his own life & the regrets that come wi

ok, ok, so I concede

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some answers are enough to make you cry or laugh yourself to death

The Rug

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Marge bought the rug on-line.

Wrinkles, Men and Shades of Gray

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You stand in the mirror. You see yourself. You stand sideways; your profile is always your best. You tuck in your stomach, you stick out your ass but it's the same. You stand face front. You shiver. The mirror adds weight to your already sagging breasts, the wrinkles…

Mausoleum

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you might as well be blind

where horses stood ground

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Where horses once were tethered grows their grass . . .

Chicken

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Puddles—not his real name, as you’ve probably gathered, but the kind of nickname a fat kid got tagged with in our neighborhood—kept stopping short, picking underwear out of his ass or taking a breather. This had the unfortunate byproduct of my crashing in

The Scream

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Coagulating sky, a turbulentheave of orange, blood red,hell's fire smeared —below, tar seas bulgeat the seams, engulfing ships.Pier-bound she streaksand wails as the seaswells and threatens to claim —, corpse head, baldeyes, her death robescling to…

Facing Mecca

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I was raised in a big city in the slow South. I know a little about cross cultural dining and where Delta Blues collides with Sly Stone, Al Green, and Zeppelin. Dirty rice in the Dirty South. Fried chicken, collards, and pintos. Fried velveeta…

Fugue No. 4

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I am learning to write.