Most read stories

Broadcast From Earth Deli

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I have no confidence that you'll complete the task. Shit, you probably don't even understand it in the slightest.

You'll Stand At My Graveside (after Mary Elizabeth Frye).

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Don't throw earth on bones.

Moony Star Moony Star

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a lost children…

Jagged Dog Story

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But I had learned from ingesting Roberto’s glitter-eyed fear, it could make you never close enough, and then, never far enough away. And both at the same time.

Darwin at the Zoo

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This year we have no need of spring!

How it all started

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I heard this story from my grandmother who heard it from her grandmother who heard it from an uncle, who was a monkey.

Tiger-eyed

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The tiger-eye beads around her neck would wink at me like a nervous uncle sharing a secret with a child. They roll on her sternum like marbles. At night, on her nightstand, they whisper my secret to the patchouli-scented room. How long have they known?

Working things out in my head

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A shot in the dark and everything goes black. It's as if the story never happened.

Aurora

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Soon everyone will know what is coming.You cast a spell of heaviness and I crumple, horizontal. Like Aurora, sleep is my destiny.Tantalus in reverse, my curse from food forever I will flee, while everything changes;discomfort and…

Noises

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It was midnight. I was outside the cottage, digging another row of star-shaped holes for the shrubbery.

Ruptured, Weeps the Hole: The End (ELECTRIC DELIRIUM 10)

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She dips a toothpick in ink, running prick over paper, simply to prove herself wrong.

Quinine Tablets

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a little bitter for the better

A Place in the Sun

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

Oblivious

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It was cloudy, the way he liked it -- no baking in the sun. People passed occasionally. He sniffed at the joggers, “Health Nuts,” he dubbed them. He hadn’t exercised since his last high school gym class.

Ornithology

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Harpo was there with his wife. Harpo’s girlfriend came up behind the couch where I was sitting, and I ran my hand up her leg underneath her dress.

Nineteenth Century Noise

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The virtuoso tortures a violin/ in homage to Paganini.

THE RICH RIVER

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I must have been six years old at that time, but the events of…

John Doe's Jeans

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In the panic following news of my motorcycle crash, my honey fled the house without coat or wallet, and now, nearly midnight, we don’t even have cab fare home.

Crazy Later

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A year ago, my neighbor was a sexy graduate student in fashion design, sounds perhaps shabby, yet if it is, then we in the Middle West are all shabby. That girl's father graduated from high school with Bob Dylan in Hibbing, not entitling her to a child.

Pretty New Landscape

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It's important to make a sure sound. It's not impossible you know. It's just funny I suppose, like being in a dream of another dream. All these things could be mashed and tumbled together to make us one big clay hero, someone…

Mercy Mercy Mercy

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When I was young and self-born in religion my aunts, uninterested in being washed in the Blood of Christ, called me Preacher Boy. I didn't pay them any attention. It was fine by me, I said, if they wanted to sit around and paint their toenails . . .

Who Loves the Sun?

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beat them with fists and purses.

Year End Closeout

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At some point, indifference// will swallow the small gasps./ The appalling will become the norm.

Ode To The Lord's Heavenly Men

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Women have to suffer

Samantha’s Note to Her Husband

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By February, I had decided, That you'd tear out my throat every morning if it meant your favorite song would play from my neck.

Grand Theft Auto (a true story)

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He took the car out into the middle of Nowhere, Mexico, and drove it at top speed, off-road for a day and a night. I am talking strut-breaking, axle-wrecking, wheel-bending, paint-peeling conditions and balls-to-the-wall, testosterone-drunk driving.

Excerpts from 'Dispatches from the Front: My Life in NE Portland—diary by JENA RACHEL ROCKWELL (year 08)'

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I'm getting self-righteous here, Dear Reader . . . [hey! wait a second! this is my diary! what are you doing, looking at it, dude! Hit the road! Scram! Vamoose!]

Six Ways to Say Butterfly

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He repeated these six words like a prayer. His only confession.

Drift

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I was at Mike's place when the call came. My brother sounded so accusing that I wanted to punch him in the face. But he was way upstate. "Dad died today," he said, as if I could have somehow known or prevented it. It was sudden. A heart attack. He was…

Crash

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My God. It never ends