Most read stories

Dissection (II)

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She wields the blade.

Just the Facts

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skin cancer walks along Zuma beach at noon

Tractors

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Beneath their feet bedrock stretched a hundred miles

Mythologies of Self

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We lie sleepless at night, enraged,/ and finger the keyboard

Saturday Morning

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Saturday morning, and I’m pushing the old truck a little, chasing retreating bands of cloud shadows along a winding hilltop road.

Breakup Scene

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For the past 6 months our love for each other had been akin to a chess game. We avoided each other’s traps, fortified our defenses, set up gambits of our own, exchanged pieces of our lives, and now it was endgame. Checkmate. Time to move on.

Queen

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Normally, Aidan looked like a guy. A highly feminine guy, but still a guy. He wore his hair in a buzz cut (a turn on of mine), wore tight clothes, worked out so he had a bit of muscle, but nothing over the top. And he was my guy.

Sparks Beneath the Surface

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If I should wake/ before I die,/ just shoot me through/ the one good eye.

It Seems You've Stumbled Upon My Bildungsroman

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Why yes I began writing this, my bildungsroman, Who is Mitsy Jackson, in spring, 1974 or thereabouts, and thank you so much for asking.

I fall out of love, learn not to worry, and get ready to embrace the foreign war...

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Love hurts... Really.

Puppy Love

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That was the summer that Christine Nelson owned me. It felt like catching the flu. I had it bad. I was about to turn seven, and it was my first time, and it was bad. A love like that, I don’t know, it’s not a love supreme. It wasn’t completely cru

Honeymoon Bike Ride

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On my honeymoon, we went upstate to the Catskill Mountains.

Three Short Poems

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no more trying to keep / the peace, no more trying / to keep every person happy. / Just this: no more.

A Scalar Boson a Day

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. . . the empiricism of the mechanical had wound tight into her, lessons her few calendars could never impart without aid from sundials, hourglasses, clocks.

Begonia {part five}

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With a roar and short burst of flame, the dragon awoke, startled.

Brave New World

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awoke in confusion, fear and hurt never seen before that day a year past

This Story

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This story is falling head-first into a mud-puddle.

flash poem

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Why flash?because the moments, the moments, they pass in flashes of brilliancethat shudder, death glow alightand nothing makes sense beyond nowand nothing will help me but meand I am not even enoughnot my thoughts or your nod of assentor even the deep sigh of…

Madd About Tadd

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Tadd Dameron once described himself as “the most misplaced musician in the business,” and one needn’t call the missing persons bureau to determine that he may have been right.

Black Ribbon

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The highway stretches out in front of me, a black ribbon winding into the future; a collapsing probability of possibility connecting me with the past and through it to the future.

Booming

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"I want more grandchildren to spoil," the woman said. Will took a swig of beer at such moments. Maxine only answered with “someday” and looked over toward her husband. She knew it was his fault, didn’t really know why, but blamed him anyway.

Mumbles

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We bobbed and weaved using our words like the sniffs of two unfamiliar dogs in a Wal-mart parking lot. Wary, but sensing we could be more than just polite neighbors, once we got past the normal darkness of strangers. There was no plot to our story yet, but we both seemed to…

Wire

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“We know you’re in there, motherfucker. Step out, slowly, and we might keep you fit for an open casket funeral."

Restaurant Rondo

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Before she flushes the toilet the world is spinning.

Shadow Play

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I read it all wrong. In writing her novel, I thought Marilynne Robinson was writing about twins — writing, in some way, about me. Instead, these characters, Lucille and Ruthie, were standard sisters, one older than the other. In fact, Robinson explains th

she has one of those names that only a southern girl could pull off

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“But I don't HAVE an accent,” she said. With an accent. “Tell him I don't have an accent, y'all.” Looking from one friend to another. Messy ponytail bouncing. I just stared. I may have blinked. A couple times. Every syllable…

Michelle from Southport

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True story, I swear to God.

The Invisible Woman

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"She saw they were absorbed in making faces at each other with a smartphone app that enlarged a mouth."

Thank God It's Friday!

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It was only a dream. No one died, nor were they even harmed. So horrifying!

A Dream Lay In Wait

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Roanne hungered. Memory had ruled her forever. Shards really, edged like machetes: daddy, whose fingers had eyes in the dark. Momma, ensconced in the shadows. Inside the church, those pairs of short…