Most read stories

Michelle from Southport

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True story, I swear to God.

Confessions of a Likeaholic

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"Something happens in a magical, soulful part of the heart...and you see YOU. You see yourself." "I can't look at myself."

Every Moment Is Lovely, Yes

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The man was happy, filled with it, the happiest he had ever been. He was so happy that he felt he did not deserve it and he deflated. A woman with apples for shoulders and an eep for a laugh told him that he did deserve to be happy and the man thought

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…

Song: Got a Sixth of a Cow In the Freezer

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I got a sixth of a cow in the freezer That’s not meant to be just a teaser I guess all I’m sayin’ Come on home and you’ll be stayin’ Cause I got a sixth of a cow in the freezer Got a rack and a half of ribs I ain’t tellin’ you no fibs

Inconsequential

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I write poems as if language matters.

Hubbled

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The nearsighted world/ puts on its lenses

Application for Position as Failure

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Dear Sir/ Madam I wish to apply for the position you advertised in the Daily Sun. Although my expertise is in self-obliteration and self-worth (or lack of), and my work mainly in disappointment, I do have much experience in failure, which this letter will…

What We Know but Can’t Describe

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We know them just enough/ to recognize them when we find them.

Oh, Baby!

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One of the drunk men, a dear friend, hunk, as he updated me, now living the existence of a poet, called from San Francisco to say he would take the plane to Minneapolis, do it, then leave me to raise the baby.

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 16

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There was all this pomp and circumstance. We were each outfitted with robes, red of course, and mortar-boards with a gold tassel dangling over one eye. It made me positively dizzy. Plus I was extremely hung-over that day.

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.

Alternate Tale

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Suppose Eve, strolling through the sunlit Garden, had not stumbled on that particular Tree at all, the wily serpent twined in its lower branches?

Tumbleweed Suite

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in late fall, Rome, sans wind, sans rancor, sans sand or rain, sans hate ...

Conditions of a Narrator

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Moore doubted, perhaps, that readers could sympathize with a man who had killed someone for a cause or a girlfriend who forgave him. Perhaps she felt that maiming is (not) worse than murder. Perhaps she decided that the story should be about that.

Neapolitan

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I wonder how many crumbs he can drop to make a cookie, whole, so I can relax a little and throw out the self help books about how I'm not right in the motherfucking head,

Oopsy-Daisy!

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[This story definitely WON'T be appearing in this month's "Alfred Hitchock's Mystery Magazine"!]

Life at the Red Diaper Baby Factory

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Von Meckel had us all go out and paint this huge red square around the Red Diaper Baby factory. Then he held a big naming rally, at noon, during our lunch break. We weren’t allowed to eat our sandwiches. There was all this pomp and circumstance. We were

My Brain is a Pre-Historic Babe Magnet

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Ug seemed kinda down in the dumps so, uncharacteristically for a male hominid, I asked him why he looked so glum. “Ug no find nice girl,” he said, poking a stick in the dirt.

Pop Bottle?

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

Lawn

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white-gray mounds persist

Zorro

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Zorro lived in his mother’s basement until he could get back on his feet.

Vegas Elvis

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I followed the curve of the etched Koi, its filigree scales arcing across a taut midriff toward the indent of her pierced navel, where a collection of water lilies drifted on the surface of her skin.

Fertility

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Today I'm feeling fertilized by an egg—

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

Txt msging

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Forty years later he was still her Romeo, she his Juliet.

Food & Treasure

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She wakes up with rosemary.

ANSWER: (g)

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[CAUTION: READING THIS STORY COULD CAUSE IRREPARABLE "CULTURE SHOCK" AND IS NOT ADVISED FOR OLD FOLKS, PREGNANT WOMEN, OR THOSE WITH "MONSTROUS, FRAGILE EGOS"!]

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....

fake letters in reply

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I did do one nice thing for you