Most read stories

Santa's stuck

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Santa’s stuck/you say? In the chimney of course./The lard-arsed ol’bastard struggling

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?"

Beside Dripping Glaciers

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We slept beside dripping glaciers people like us We were never meant to be housed contained, kept, petted, cleaned We could only be gutted You used us one time and threw us out people like us We sprouted the wings of desire by watchi

The Best Banana Bread

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Fugue No. 4

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I am learning to write.

Spy vs. Park

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Things looked way too normal to be normal. The cold, gliding black eyed swans never once straying far from each other's wake, the cute blue jeaned lovers everyone secretly watched carefully picking their trickling way over small odd rocks and…

The Celebrity

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Mr. Blumberg and I sat side by side on a small couch in the family room. He was watching a football game on TV.

Cat On A Hot Tin Roof

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Cat's ass was on fire. The roof was scorching hot. Her clothes were in a pile by the door that led to the roof. She was sitting next to the ventilation duct, her hands outstretched behind her, her knees bent before her. Jim was standing in front of…

Ballpoint Sketches for Banana Peel Poems

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I wanna make banana peel poems-- slippery little booby traps

The Kid With the Hair

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threads of Cocoa Krispies

Heinrich Cornelius Agrippa is Trying to Say Something to His Mother

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The songs that she used to sing to him still dance in his head while he wrangles equations. The stars in the cosmos spell out her name.

Googling A Ghost

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My buddy had been in the computer business, a systems analyst. Surely there would be some mention of him online. But there was nothing. Nothing, that is, until I saw the obituary.

Wishing for the Shadow of a Perfect Cube

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Words darken with smut and irony over time.

The Rug

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Marge bought the rug on-line.

Who Loves the Sun?

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beat them with fists and purses.

A Look In the Mirror

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...That flash of horror as well as the lie that replaced it were mirrors of sorts and both told the truth.

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…

Pop Bottle?

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Who ever saw an open upright pop bottle on the street?

Rwanda Suite: Gasoline

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I realize the kid is still smoking. Shocked, I tear the cigarette from his mouth, throw it to the earth, and grind it to death with the heel of my boot.

A World of Hurt

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Cat fight. I rush outside and swinging my trusty broom I charge the rolling yowling ball of black fur.

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.

Paper White

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With each step, that cold hand steals ever upward.

Geneviève's Voice

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Maybe this very short story is about shyness. Maybe. I'm not sure.

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.

Thalassophobia

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Except where its waves break gently,/ white frothed and reassuring along the shore,

The Mojave Desert Remembers Ron Paul

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The Mojave Desert remembers Ron Paul With tattered billboards Scraped and clawed by vehement dust

Prayer

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Prayer

Versus

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She vs her.

Tostoi's Last Fiction: a footnote to a note

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The note was a lie, multiplied through each member of its potential audience....

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