Most read stories

Salem the Dead

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My father's cousin is Salem the Dead. Famed, an infant Lazarus of Libya, he was brought lifeless from the womb, yet awoke to the chill of a mortuary slab.

Batteries For Smoke Detectors

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Crack open the roof-- raise the battery on a platform with chains up into the lightning

Promises

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THE LAST THING I WANTED, expected, or needed was to be standing in the doorway of Carly Ray's room, watching her clutch a picture of her father, my old friend Beryl, up to her face. She is so tiny, but at the same time there is something very adult about the way she looks.…

Hara-kiri

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unwrapping the gauze from her wrists....

tchotchke

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tuck me

Thalassophobia

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

The Tourists

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They acquire him in a bar that is famous for its shipwrecks.

Achieving Inner Peace without facebook

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There was an empty box on his facebook page asking to be filled in with, “What’s on your mind?” He thought. "Hair?"

The 5 Senses of the Apocalypse

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The Rapture comes and goes unannounced in carbonated soda bubbles spicing the air.

Gehryspeak

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IN nature, it's hard to find a straight line. Stand on a beach. Look out to sea. There out far you might think you see a line where the sky comes down to join. Where two fields of blue meet. But where you're not quite sure for the line is a blur there. You…

Making Love- Circa Y2K

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I want to ask him why not now, right here on the living room floor when Rosie is out for the day. Instead, I suggest Sunday afternoon. I can make grilled cheese sandwiches and we'll eat them on the veranda. I'll take off my tennis skirt and unbutton my...

Some Things I Have Learned As A Writer

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1. Poor grammar does not sleep. 2. We'll never finish every idea we have. 3. No matter how hard you try, you still might make it into my book

Never Trust A Thief

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His looks were polished like his shoes, his hair as black. No one would have guessed he made his living as a thief.

Bethlehem

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I dragged you that last half mile Me such a slip of a thing, one bite mark visible You the bear, your growl now only audible When you furred from kerb to road to kerb The December snow followed us Dragging Christmas red behind you As I ignored my…

The Bombs & Blood of Texas & Boston

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Running into the fire, the smoke and the chaos; selfless first responders, innocent bystanders, and dedicated runners

The Apartment House

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Everybody called her The Crier because from time to time we would hear her crying.

Arcana Magi Zero + Pure - c.1

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A Nocturne, whose grey mana seeped out of it mouth, grabbed the roof of the building with its large claws. Using it as leverage, it stood itself up, hunched over, its long whale like head roared like a loud horn.

The Star... an excerpt from The Exile of Gaspar

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The night is very clear and unusually cold. We are so near to the star that its light banishes the darkness that tries futilely to extinguish it. A small village twinkles in the foothills to our east. The cry of a lost sheep cuts the night like a blade

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.

New World

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The flash of love was real, the life within her was real, and the main thing now was to climb.

Abecedarian inspired by Bill Yarrow

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Despite what the bible says, Shadrach and Meshach had no third brother named Abednego. To pay for his cello lessons, Yo-Yo Ma worked the subways of New York as a busker. Just chill. After Sal went into witness protection, he yearned for a job at the art…

Fealty

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I wander toward the midnight dock a neon sine curve stabs my eyes

Fun Times at the Memorial Park

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Good times, underground.

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."

A Lot of Things to Tell You (from FATHER MUST)

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How long have you been waiting for me? How long?

My Church

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My ChurchThe white dressThe bridesmaidsThe friends, the familySadnessMy church knewno music

Two poems

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I cut myself. Often. The bloodslice like thin lips parted/in prayer. life’s color drained to ashen/as the old world spins, pirouettes/like a circus dog on the back/of a galloping horse.

Or

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I paid the doctor / You paid the doctor

Only Temporary

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It was the middle of May when I found out my teacher was screwing my mother.

Inconsequential

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I write poems as if language matters.