Most read stories

Sand Dollars

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“Life is on life’s terms,” she told me once. Her arm, wrapped in clear cellophane, was freshly adorned with a green-pigmented sand-dollar: a living shell.

Lorelei

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

You, me, now, then

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

Meaning

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His face was creased with sadness the first time in the room and he danced his tai chi like a young man half his age, and laughed, like headtrippers do, from the neck up.

Community

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an undercurrent of fear is running through my community

A Skeptic’s Faith in Four Parts

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The universe will fuck you over in the end./ That’s what it does, what it’s good at—

On the Road

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how did they not know

Caster Knox

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Caster had always imagined the Consensus as a big room, as big as the world, filled with white space and people with quantum wings, flitting about, creating information. There were tinted bubbles for people to share for privacy, and the lights never went

The White Dogs Of West Emerald Street

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

The Purple Prose of Cario

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I contemplate the words that did not make it; the lost ones. The words deprived of their moment in the sun. These words. These words that are not part of the story.

The Mix Tape

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I made her a mix tape. It was revolutionary. Twenty-two songs she had to hear at least once in her life. I even drew some trippy drug-like designs on the label of the CD to make it seem more real. It was the ocean and the sun and every body of land balled up…

Migrants

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She is too stylish to be crazy, is what the migrant probably thinks. And he's right.

Sleeping on Route 110

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in the deep dark of a 2 a.m. atmosphere

Summer, 1995.

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I am no different to her, living seven days ahead of myself, looking forward to looking back, as we Irish do so fondly

Canyon In The Clouds

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It was two days to town. His horse could only go one.

Where Do We Come From? What Are We? Where Are We Going? Gauguin

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Two angels walk in a dark cloud arm in arm discussing the nature of good and evil Walking along in flowing robes now that nakedness is forgot, and they both stare at the same eternal thought with their heads bowed as serenity is the only thing

Tax Tips From Tila Tequila, Professional Bisexual

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“We’re never going to get off the treadmill of paying ever-higher taxes," I said, "unless we get some creative suggestions from a professional bisexual tax advisor.”

Toad On Fire

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“I would like to keep my head, at least for a few more nights. Didn't you say we were gonna have sex one of these days? Isn't that in the manual?”

Redbeard the Communist Pirate

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True facts about Redbeard the communist pirate.

People Who Go to Poems for Truth

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People Who Go to Poems for Truth

The Widow Teasdale and the Ineffable Warmth of Personal Services

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Her cash. It smelled like seven-dollar-a-quart gardenia perfume and cave aged cheese—like hope overgrown with mildew.

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...

Robots Among Us

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Father hands Billy a length of rope. Billy builds his resolve, fights back his tears, heads into the kitchen. It's time to become a man.

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.

Epiphenomenal Glider

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Hissing through the opening, the spirits have no place.

Brothers of the Sacred Circle: A Prayer to Ares

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When our body falters, deny us rest. When our minds crack under the strain, forbid us sanity. When we are too tired to fight give us war.

Juan Looking Good

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Juan’s tío, Richard, who works for the city and is the kind of Mexican who thinks he isn’t, took care of the lawyer. Juan checks himself in the mirror, didn’t know how good dressing fancy would feel.

Seven Forever

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It was my fault.

The Old Dog (in response to Brian Warfield)

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Blend the dog a drink and sit down beside him and draw straws for regrets.

Leather and Something Like Infidelity

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Part of me feels like a wounded animal surrounded by hungry cougars. Another part of me feels like being mauled by a cougar might not be that bad. A third part of me wishes he could punch the second part of me in the face.