Most read stories

I Don't Understand Poets

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I haven’t read many of them, these poets that they speak of – Whitman and his Leaves Of Grass, Mary Oliver and her wild life

Low On the Hog

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Living lower on the hog than anticipated lower on the hog than previously expected lower on the hog than desired Living on the underside of the hog belly pretty much bouncing on the ground beneath the aforementioned hog belly Living clos

Hometown News: Newsprint Jesus (part 1)

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I had enough judgment, anger and vengefulness from the people around me in the steel town of Pueblo, Colorado, where I was growing up. I didn’t need more from my God.

As the Lights Dim

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AS THE LIGHT DIMS …

Excommunicado

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not every punishment proceeds / without a hitch

Residual

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Our afterlife depends upon// what interesting shape

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 Rug

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Marge bought the rug on-line.

Greenback Fly

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It doesn't take a genius to figure how he sank, in the drink, like Jeff Buckley. Like a stone.

Fa La La La La

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A pinprick breaks the black/ and pins the spin of constellations/ around its still point.

Maxims (Part 1) Taken from Twitter - Iain James Robb

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You can tend to recognise the difference between a good and mediocre mind by observing how each reacts to a misfired original idea.The mediocre mind will praise the merely meretricious, but ignore the more interesting bad art. The higher mind will value the misfired…

Mutterings

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That old woman's got to be senile or something. The other day she asked my daughter if I had a "thing about water." Sharon told her I didn't, but then came right in and asked me, "Mother, you got a thing about water?"

Starting from Scratch

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Each time his eyes closed, he shook off the sleep, whimpered, and opened them wide again. I’d never watched a baby fall asleep before, but I realized at that time that falling asleep could be a scary thing. The world gets fuzzy and starts slipping awa

Rubber-Band Requiem

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“Now we lay you in your grave There was no way you could be saved You hate our lord Jesus and he can tell Which is why you will burn in hell.”

The Obsession of Bentley Squeamish

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The thing Bentley remembered most about her was she had no body odor. None.

Ballerina

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His mother was a ballerina.

Sparky's Gambit

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Sparky took to me immediately. In some atavistic canine way he knew I was simpatico to a dog like him.

Moony Star Moony Star

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a lost children…

A Christmas Mistake

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But that night we were happy, looking all around at the bright lights of the several cities that we could see.

Ashes (for RC)

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Floating along the ebbs of the ocean,toward the horizon, where time has no say,an end that will never be reached.

That Which Does Not Kill You (Only Postpones The Inevitable)

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Harold Smithe awoke that Tuesday morning precisely at 6 am. He did this every day for as long as he could remember. Even on the weekends when his schedule varied. Well, varied slightly. He lay in bed trying to wake up and mulled over the things he needed to accomplish for…

Jackpot

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Lucky for mama, he doesn't like for his women to work.

Key Tone Deficiency

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Beware superfluous color

Snow and snow and snow and snow and snow and snow and snow

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A tough enough signal to read under the best of meteoric circumstances, this is one maybe I'll keep on thinking about. I might be able to make something everlasting out of this crazy price for love after all. I no longer…

Jammin' On Duane Street

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I have cherished the memory of that meal since and have sought out Indian restaurants all over the world. San later told me that the best Indian food was to be had in London

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.

Hello Cheryl

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“Hello, Cheryl” the voice on the other end of the phone replied. It was strong but raspy, yet quiet and controlled. The fellow sounded like he had a frog in his throat. “How do you know my name?” she asked. “I know a lot of things about y

Orpheus Today

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It is only seven-thirty but the night is full, gloom seizing Highway 66. There is a carcass on the road, maybe a human, slumped next to an empty ice cream truck. Several stars hang up in the East, drunken constellations scrambling to find meaning.

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

you're a james now. here's what to expect:

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fetal position can make a man seem small. harmless. like the child your womb won't carry...