Most read stories

Were I Konstancja Gladkowska

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My playing would falter languidly, and transcend itself like a wishful Nocturne

Desert

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On a trail, Richard and I came upon a saguaro cactus that had dried in the shape of a human figure. Its arms were lifted and its back was stooped. I said, “It looks like my mother.”

~American Woman~

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…like candy and puke on your tongue, the fakest broad ever, cruising like a busted prow, busted wheel, mast and stem, these stately wrecks and rotten flowers of perfume and the deadly bitchiness of the modern woman’s expectations.

Long Island Roulette

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We sat quietly in my truck. My lit cigarette twitched between my lips. Samantha and I stared at the front door of Planned Parenthood in Worcester.

Strangeness

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The goose on the roof isn’t aware it is doing anything odd...

A Story

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The next moment is a convergence made from a single repeating sequence that disappears behind the voice that tells of it.

Dial Tone

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I am asking for something as simple as water. In an oak tree, weeping, a child climbed too high. Tears that the barkstain will never wash clear. O love. We ask far too much when we fall. In a momentary lapsus, the words…

Nine Elephants and an Ass

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Nine sated elephants and an ass sit around a decimated Thanksgiving table discussing the state of the union over the hacked to bits carcass of a twenty-three pound turkey. Two years in to The Great Communicator's Lame Duck term and the nine elephants, whose…

Privileged

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I could hide away in this tower But I am Rapunzel And I will let down my hair

Sisyphus

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He’s more than a little pissed at all this eternal boulder rolling.

Day 1 of Composing the Second Novel

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Sarah the Witch

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Secretly she suspected she was really a witch. She didn't have green skin or scraggly black hair, and certainly no flying monkeys. Maybe those came over time, the more bad things you did, the more ugly you became until all the world could see how horrible

The Dry World

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drunkards indulge, addicts abuse

threes

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i am either lacerated /or ill at ease / continually subject to gusts of life

Couplets Regarding an Impasse

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Life is easier for the handsome. / They are more pleasant to deal with.

On Not Having an Affair With a Flamboyant Minor Dadaist Poetess

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It’s just that—well, I don’t know how to put this— With a Dadaist poet a non-affair is the height of erotic bliss.

Thick Hair

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He fell through her scalp-crust

To Really Hear

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He's driving in the Sierra Nevada with his wife and their small daughters and the girls are fighting and he can't take much more of it.

Assiduity Five

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. . . my situation.

How (not) to Cheat

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...I’m honest enough to know that fucking around has never been accidental or unplanned. Every time I did it, even in the rock bottom throes of esteem, sobriety, and life, yes, even on the brink of suicide, I knew exactly what I was doing...

Something for Seniors

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For Sale: Clean Depends, Never Worn

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 15

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—Jesus, a snoring cat. No wonder Alex put this cat outside.

Spitwads

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Two types coexist- the sanguine/ and exsanguinated./ My skin is cool/ and pale as moonlight

"A bit less hot Tuesday"

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The faces of the sun remain unaltered across the seven day forecast. I am sweat-glued to a poem, looking up at the wall-mounted TV in a diner in the Valley

Unknown Brothers

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His name is Rick Reynolds. His name is Steve Redford.

Caucasus

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On shingle of seashells & Bullet shells, Ghosts drift along the shore Of the Black Sea.

Simon The Sex Trafficker

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While he was in there he saw another man walk in, five years his senior. He was ushered back by a woman with bare legs and a white coat, as if she was role playing a professional masseuse. He'd caught sight of the man's ring finger and it hand a plain gol

Hungry

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Why do people kill themselves with food? It’s obvious, I suppose. They’re hungry.

So long

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Years later he surveys this place again to post something, anything. He plays "sex on fire," sounds that once fueled him. Now he knows the song is about VD, not unbridled potency. Names and words all seem at once familiar and numbing and noise. He once wanted fame or…

Love Cycle – a serial

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1. How can one begrudge the cracking open of a heart?When the lava love fire loaded insanity of self-control disappearsAnd the raw spewing beginsYou better be ready for the truthIt ain't gonna be prettyYou'll wish you were deadYou won't recognize where you areYou'll be…