Most read stories

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.

Presley of the FBI

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"You look awfully familiar," said one of the corrupt oil company execs to the dark-haired man with the sunglasses and big sideburns.

The White Dogs Of West Emerald Street

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I wondered if Mr. Slane even knew/ how many dogs he owned

Rinds

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I miss Mother gentling the small of my back. She has forgotten me. Her little girl. Whose thumb she fussed over when a rose thorn scratched it and blood spilled like a secret. Whose smile she said was her morning sunshine, whose hug was incense. I yearn for her lips…

Assiduity Three

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Everybody needs a flaw or two. It builds character.

Waitress Hopping

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Or, today, when early summer sweated the long pants off every woman under the age of thirty. Did I notice the way you looked at them for one, two, three seconds; then didn't, partial to short-shorts. It was sly how you kept them in your line of sight, alm

The Sextant

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I was hope, and you were what I can only call consolation, as day after day you remained a grief in my throat.

"Is Your Stomach Making You Sad?" and Other Conundrums of 21st Century Life

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The questions we ask ourselves define who we are as a culture. “What is the meaning of life?” “Is there a God?” “Does anybody really know what time it is?” “Where the hell did I put my car keys?” To see what…

Raymond Chandler and His Wife

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One day it was boring / to be alive.

Too Weak for the World

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There was a certain romanticism in it, the salty old man sidling up to me at a bar, rhapsodizing in a slurred stream of conscious about the state of the world, the country, the state of his own heart. He didn't have an eye patch nor beard, nor was he…

fake letters in reply

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I did do one nice thing for you

Consider the Living

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we're not at war / with the world. We have papers.

One old and one new

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served as it is/ among these friends. The frayed filaments/ tickle my chin and irritate my nostrils,

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

Zorro

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

I Was a Cat Once

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This is a 50-word story.

Wounded Animal Songbook

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I pull into the parking lot and see a group of roosters squawking and trying to overturn an ‘87 Pontiac Bonneville that's caught fire. They're pouring whiskey down their throats. They're weeping over a bag of economy sized frozen breast fillets.

1958-1961

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In those years, you and I were told to leap for a world suffused with sound and industry.

The Secret of Belief

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I don't believe in symbols but there's a hole in my living room window in the shape of a bird

The Book

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The following is a true story, or rather it is a true experience from the story of my life. Some say that just because something happens doesn’t really make it “true”.

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.

Chipping Granite

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I sat at the kitchen counter, aware of a heaviness, a numbness, in my flesh, my bones, my mind. My dancer's body -- short, trim and 108 pounds -- felt as huge and unmoving as the…

Summer Is An Itch

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Underwater your eyes collapseand your feet touch decayed leavesand soft sand at the lake's bottom, the texture of tenderized flesh,maybe an intestineYou spring to the surface tofind your skull met by waterflies, and their limbstweak your peaceOn the shore your…

Ornithology

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Harpo was there with his wife. Harpo’s girlfriend came up behind the couch where I was sitting, and I ran my hand up her leg underneath her dress.

Traumathurge

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From Berlin to Arcturus. I squeeze Sevigny’s wrist, wish Izzy could be here, but she’s melting salt in Utah. We were on our way to Los Angeles. I’ve booked the horror room.

Fealty

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

Hyde Confronts Jekyll’s Position on a Current Affair

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I would fly drones with hydrochloric acid sprays/ over their squadrons and watch the disfigurement/ begin. I love disfigurement...

TOP TEN LIST

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It was only two days before Christmas.  Jonathan remembered his mother crying.

The Vermeer of Shoes

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My flash kept going off. The museum officials are strict about such matters. Sans flash! Sans flash, Monsieur!

Fugue No. 4

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I am learning to write.