Most read stories

The Window

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Just beyond the tree, beyond the fence, close to the grey clouds that hung almost to the earth, a boy sat on another tree's stump. Beneath his crossed legs that he moved up and down rhythmically, under his bright red, Superman shorts, inscribed in the stump, a symbol which…

HEADLINES

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Warranties are what made America great, although hers has expired and the mailbox will remain empty for another fifteen days.

The Creative Use of Meal Time

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We’re more into the punishment that works its way in through the skin and coats the heart anonymously.

Letter to a Lost Friend

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I keep attempting to start a correspondence with people / but they end up not being interested in me, / either that or I scare them away / because I usually begin with: / “Well, my favorite philosopher is Hegel..."

Silent Noodles, Swimming Pools and the ACLU: What I Learned From Magazines This Week

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You might want to think twice before inviting Henry David Thoreau to your next dinner party...

Presage

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I am calling to tell you what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Dog Years

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Already my back aches

The Night Shore

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Somniloquies rise like the drowned . . .

My Back (Facebook) Pages*

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It's all over now, Baby Blue...

I Can't Complain

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To tell the truth, I can’t complain. Look, lots of people have it tough. I don’t have it tough...

shakey

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You held my hand when I hit the ground and told me the shakes would start soon.

Late at Night

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My eyes hold my mother. It's not easy being human she tells me. She always told me. Sure, but the stories are lovely. We all know that. We generate the tales, tell the tales, kiss our children. Live on in their eyes, though, don't…

1888: Mrs. Sherwood

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Margaret will take her seven away from his raging Irish hammers slurry Saturday night honks smashing red eyes. They'll board a secret train countryside bound where they sing the songs of her own dead Mam who lived poor in the world but…

Freelance Your Way to Poverty

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Buyers of freelance writing have a well-deserved reputation for responding slowly, thereby increasing your pleasure in much the same way that the Pointer Sisters longed for a slow hand.

news through a window

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TV and power cord valorized in dust,/ wires and digital guts unimpaired, I’d guess . . .

Swimming Lessons

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I’m from the Land of Sky Blue Waters. I grew up in a lake. I think I’m half fish.

prima vera

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a road moment

Greener Than Thou: Saving the Earth, One Smackdown At A Time

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Are you a hostile person who gets into trouble when you express your anger? Would you like to annoy the hell out of people and get away with it?

Should Have Gotten Delivery Instead

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My mind raced at the endless possibilities one could die while driving to get a pizza.

Lorelei

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It was all things considered a particularly odd sight, which Annalise did not know how to handle.

Sacrifice

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The church building was a rustic structure made of rough-cut lumber that over-lapped in the clap-board fashion. The building itself was unpainted, but the boards were a weathered gray that only came from years of exposure to weather. The steeple towered o

Mr. Kunitz, Mr. Lowell, Mrs. Craig

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Although I think we can easily work it out because we are not here in the Yale graduate school, and diction is the theme of the story. Diction is a choice in language.

You, me, now, then

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If I seemed disappointed after our conversation, then, for the record, that was never the case.

Snatch 7 (come 11)

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...the scream and the face...

Enough, Trump

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Enough, Trump. We've had it my dear, with your pink ties, your hairs, your swagger, your towers, your money, tempers, walls, bombs, smarts, snarls, pouts and doubts, bigotty bile, and once again, style. We just…

Fuck Yeah America

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After sportscasters announced the assassination and while the reverberations of the words were still fading people were already shouting

next love letter

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Eat me so I can sink in your mouth, my paper fraying along the sharp topography of your tongue, lodging in the holes where your teeth used to be. There, I will storm an infection until your mouth inks my words.

Tick

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Palms planted firmly against his temples, Travis paced the room like a caged animal. Giant black bats screeched in his brain, their pointy wings scraping at the edges of his cranium.

The Road

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My mother moved her things out of my parents’ bedroom into the attic guest room. When I asked where guests would sleep, my father said, “Matthew, don’t be an asshole.”

Five Million Yen: Chapter 58

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Anatoly Gringovitch was listening to the dress rehearsal of Hausenstockmann’s Constellations at Auditorium Rainier III in Monte Carlo.