Most read stories

OCD Man: a love story

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The mouth is peculiar and so are the shoes.

DEAR MOTHERFUCKER

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I'm standing outside your window with our son's fingers in my fist.

Summer Girl

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You’re bro­ken. Your eyes don’t see quite right, and your hands don’t feel quick enough. I love you any­way.

1997: What I Wanted

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If all the world had one neck, I would have clenched my hands around it and squeezed until everything went black.

Mussel Memory

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Andreas Cappelanus taught that the word / “love” comes from the word meaning / “to fish.”

Pi in the Sky

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The possibility for numerous outcomes – the possibility of anything, really – lives on the writer’s page.

Peeg and Brie (opening of a teen novel)

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TEXT TO VICKY This sucks! Sorry for the teen-speak Vicky, but it does. You saw me in the hospital. It's just as bad at home. They still don't know what to do for my smashed voice box. I probably won't ever speak again. (Maybe with a mechanical thing lik

The Taste of Coins from Treasure Troves

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I hold a key to feel its pull, and follow where it leads. Once, because the moment, key, and direction felt so right, I ended up on the streets naked. A police officer threatened me with handcuffs. I laughed, mesmerized by the cuff's clink, their never-ending circles,…

Aphrodite in Ruins

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He needed an editor for his Yale dissertation, the shifting borders between criminal justice and the internet. But the sex was inevitable. He was six two. I was blonde. I don’t think we liked each other very much, but that wasn’t important.

French Kiss

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The date began badly...

Slices of Matisse

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still the water's insurrection continues, transforming the room into a silent crucible whose pure liquid melts our voices and surges above our heads.

Interview

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The ethnographer turns on a recorder. The story began before but that is lost, like it never happened.

At a Welsh Wedding

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He was manic, depressive, schizophrenic, bipolar, paranoid, cyclothymic, borderline, or a genius.

While We Fuck

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When you push my bra down, so it rests uncomfortably beneath my breasts—your teeth dragging pink trails across my throat and shoulders, pushing your thumb and forefinger into my panties—you don't say that you love me. You say, “Jesus shit. Relax, baby,…

Dumb Luck

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“What sort of truck was it in Texas?” Carlisle says. “Small as truck goes,” Mill says. “Smaller than a full-size pick-up.”

Off the record

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Writers, hopeful ones, hopeless ones, poets and petty penmen, worked as bartenders, librarians, substitute teachers, anything.

Hoss Men

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I stood there skinny-as-a-half in “big hair,” ankle boots, and black eyeliner. P. was in radio, not books. He had a sense of humor. I was researching a different man for a novel.

A Boy

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You said it was easier when you were ten and could play Risk with a girl and it was a game, not foreplay.

Who's Better: Michael Jackson or Shakespeare?

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I looked up “tupping.” It doesn’t have anything to do with Tupperware. It’s Old English for screwing. Just like a professor–make something harder so you’ll get it wrong on the mid-term.

Knot Eye

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The diagnosis was peculiar, the doctors agreed, / but so was the condition

Miss

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On Saturday mornings, by noon, the delivery car comes from Boston and unloads fresh bread and sandwiches, pork ribs and ground pork stuffed inside of breads and buns and banana leaves, bean shakes, and sticky rice desserts.

Cracking Open

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Her addiction started with dry roasted nuts, and quickly jumped to peanuts. At her worst, she was consuming a large glass jar of peanuts daily. She loved while hating their salty taste and greasy feel, the repetition of tossing them into her mouth. …

Wild Dreams of Reality, 2

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All of a sudden I felt a hand on my neck. I jumped up from my chair and turned to face my brother Darrell, with his surprisingly white shock of hair, the result of all the drugs he'd been experimenting with, back in his mid-twenties. He was even taller

Going Bananas

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I haven’t made the headlines yet. Maybe I never will. In a city like this, it probably takes more than this to get the helicopters in the air.

Advice from Topeka

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... I know all about ax murderers because Elmo, my uncle by marriage to my sister who never had any sense was one. He done killed six women in a farm outside of Topeka in the space of they say three minutes, including my sister and her bingo friends . . .

Letters, notes, conversations, partings

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Writing as parallel form | Writing a parallel line | Seeing stealing | Stealing seeing | Stealing as seeing

We two

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We two have this entire lifetime left, so let's waste it . . . .

Ugly People

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They stumble and curse prettily, their thin arms traversed with colored lines of drainage from the swooping trays, snakes of pricey liquor tinkling down their armpits and disappearing into unwashed bras packed with soggy filler.

Ask Mr. Fix-It!

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Got a home repair question? Ask Mr. Fix-It! He usually knows the answer, and if not, your problem isn’t worth fixing.

The Lonely Snake

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A solitary snake, his belly full, stretched out in the sun. His uncoiling swept sand and small rocks to the left and right. Ah, he thought, I have the power to move mountains from my path. See how the lowly earth makes way for my comfort.