Most read stories

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 40

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—Mazel tov, schmazel tov!

Band Names For Sale. Inquire Within

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Mythical Itch and the Unicorns Working Late Jacuzzi Floozy One Erection Diego Rivera’s Poncho Frieda’s Moustache Avalanche Babushka Dolls Photographic Mammary Drool Sir Gruntsalot Uber Rubber Iota Pie Elder Geese Ladylike Rud

The Dock

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Row, Caps of white, A salted escape beneath reflected light. Brother, remember those old lies? I’m off to sea to make those things right, now.

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,

Catch & Release: Dog Person Depression

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Instead, I get things like, “Why can’t you find a nice man with cancer or a bum leg?”

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…

It Isn’t Personal. It’s Business

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because you pay/ for it to matter to me.

When again?

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will we begin again?We are a wheelFirst touchfirst kissfirst heatThey fade, disappear, come back again.Spokes in our wheel.When again shall we begin again?I hold you and feel myself spincaught in the whirlwind of thrill -the world, saturated with your scent.We hold each…

Hands Like White Porcelain

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Jesus is for sale. But he’s heavy.

A Life of My Own - 4

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"Middle class workers and working class poor and the unemployed will soon be forming a revolutionary movement to break this stranglehold of corrupt elites."

Prophetstown

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The elders of the town will tell you that as soon the prophet mill arrived everything went to Hell. Before the process was streamlined, prophets used to be grown organically in the community. They popped up only where the ground was tilled and a prayer was planted. They…

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.

Thing To Do In Deptford When You're Dead.

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Velvet answered the door in a red leather dress that was made with just about enough material to make a wallet, and looking like a long limbed drink of water calling out to a thirsty man.

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...

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 31

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I was always bi-polar. I didn’t realize it was a mental illness until my divorce lawyer had the court order a psychiatric analysis.

Cheap and Convenient

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Later, when she said she'd had miscarriages, I should have put it all together.

even dead body

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I'm a jogger of these parts, but I've yet to discover a dead body, or even dead body parts, or worse yet, discover that my parts will be discovered by some unfortunate jogger.

Speeding on the Highway at 2AM

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I am speeding on the highway at 2AM because no one is here...

left handed

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under your skin the moon is alive

Conversations

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That won’t kill me, will it? I asked. Maybe, the doctor said.

Ethnomathematics

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His academic nightmare is set in an examination hall, where the student takes a seat at a folding table in the center of the room.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 24

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When Frank entered Michiko’s apartment, Michiko was not there.

Morning People

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she thinks she looks good in her short red dress, black makeup around her eyes, last night's lipstick a slap of crimson on her cheek. "like this," she says, holding the hammer above her head.

Reconstruction

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My favorite lie is that he'd escaped the South Tower before it collapsed. Smoke inhalation erased his way home. Mine's better than mother's version: a stranger hurled herself onto him. The truth is when they stopped search and rescue, mother told father, Go. Even dead, his…

Rising

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The coin, so little, the watch chain, the youth, the fading softening speech, each hand and finger, the panic modeled on your own eyes, the ashtray, certain stumps along the way, the long distance, the odd feather, the jazz rope gone,…

Epiphenomenal Glider

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Hissing through the opening, the spirits have no place.

Kate

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It’s that laugh of hers that gets me...

Artist's Statement: Oracle

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Mark Reep is a faded Polaroid oracle taped to the only unbroken window of an abandoned house in Ithaca NY.

The Four Despairs of Lumpy

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children love to push the gas up and down my limbs