Most read stories

more horrid haiku

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a mere forty years/and maybe you become twelve,/maybe sixty-three.

ghosts

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conflicts in time

The Search

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“Sixty-seven responses!” Al Edelstein announces at the first meeting of the search committee. It has been just two weeks since Rabbi Feldman dropped dead of a heart attack and just a week since the congregation ran the ad: “Help Wanted: Orthodox Rabbi. Im

The Tale Of Brave Grinelda

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Once upon a time in the days of old There lived a poor tailor who- I am told- Did brag that his daughter Spun straw into gold!

A College Town

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Arcana Magi Pure Vol.3 - c.3

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Mayumi and her friends arrived at the beach. The sun was near setting for the night, and a few stars began an early peek in the twilit sky.

Crazy Eyes

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The kid with a testosterone chip Instead of a brain

Thank God It's Friday!

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

After: An All American, Post 9-11 Love Poem

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After he got on one knee, and she said, I do. After they watched the televised bombs disappear the city. After everyone fell asleep. After shock and awe, him and her making love…

Drug Series # 19: Heroin

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Billie Holiday and I want a cup of coffee and they tell us to go fuck ourselves.

Relics

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Theresa Esposito woke to the smell of pignoli cookies baking. The sweet scent made her stomach rumble. She was ten-years-old today. And she felt ten. Her hair, her ears, her eyes, her toes — everything felt ten.

Who's There?

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The old man sat in the run-down shack, nursing his lobol-weed tea, and cursing the bitter cold wind outside.

Texas Spleen

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Can we survive our Y chromosome?

Monday

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The door shuts slowly to something that’s allegedly mine and it sits there and waits until I come home just like you.

Farm

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Still as the knife on the counter there still. Like mothballs in a chest. One with clear bags and newspaper clippings and your scarf inside it. The baby girl could put a mothball in her mouth and suck it like a penny. The way too close to a light bulb bur

Funhouse

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beatings and tear gas

A Little Load of Paint

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Cézanne sags during a moment of paint. There is an umbrella in the room whose surface collects his thoughts. Outside, in the rain, the grass and garden smell strongly of spring. Fruit litters the table. Light through the window writhes in conversation with shape and…

Voices From a Playground

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"Eye contact is essential as it shows confidence. I walk with purpose and hope that my skirt isn’t too short. "

Root Causes

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 …

Chocolate Diamonds

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with facets

Voyeur

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Morning's first blush, their world in repose. Sated, drained, spent; …

Early Tuesday Morning

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The moon hung in the sky, round and pale, under cover of some wispy clouds.

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…

Mon Oncle

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Mrs. L. was sitting on a love seat in her nightgown. She was sitting in a man’s lap....

Make Music, Not Love

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We are/no more than heartbeats on repeat.

Emma Louise

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Emma Louise is walking over a concrete bridge when she spies, out of the corner of her eye, a man fishing, waist deep, in the river tumbling below. She is thinking that the water must be very cold on this autumn day, when she sees an extraordinary thing.

Monsieur, Monsieur, Nous Avon Pamplemousse!

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He came running out of his narrow little shop, Berthillon and chased me down the Ilse St. Louis street, saying, “Monsieur, Monsieur, nous avon pamplemousse! It’s ici, Monsieur. Your pamplemousse. They just come in this matin, morning and I’

A Catalogue of Ways to Die at Sea

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Quimby’s eyes lit up. “Oh, lads, there must be a thousan’ ways to die at sea! I’ve made th’ Atlantic passage a good many time; lemme recount some manners of death I’ve witnessed with mine own eyes.”

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