Most read stories

Passage

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She didn't want to let go of the crumpled tissue she had been holding all this time, as it is wrong to litter, but she finally did, and felt free. Released. Bad. Naughty. Almost orgasmic.

The Sharps

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How could a leaf be an accident?

Fray

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Someone set a pig aflame.

Six Quarters (from Grand Street literary journal)

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Yes, my old uncle liked roses. Grew them. He had a way of smelling a rose—after he smelled a rose, you are surprised the rose is still there.

Where hearts have no conquerors

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Let's just rest and let the wind blow through our hair, while the mountains quake and the trees shake their leaves. Towards another destiny, a new world ... where greed is only a word without significance, hunger doesn't belong in a dictionary and money is only an…

Intro to Philosophy

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We now live in post-Postmodern Absurdist fear of course, says our smiling Prof. That’s the price we pay he tells us. . . .

Perfect

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a perfect afternoon

Someplace Else

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Flish flash, flish flash, flicker of triangle lights. As he deparks, I say, “See that girl?” She crosses at the stop sign with blond hair flip, flash of white teeth: rips cookie from wrapper, drops wrapper on ground. “I bought her a…

The first sunny day of Spring

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Paulie opens the curtains in his bedsit to sunshine. And blue skies! He basks in it for a full minute, feeling the heat on his naked body.

December 1, 2016

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Polite society will cheer/ as another body is discovered// and disposed of. The cheers/ will drown out the gasps

On a Count of the Stars

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The number is very large/ and perpetually changes// as old stars fade, explode,/ or collapse into something not stars

Let Us Meet In The Afternoon

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You are Day I am Night Let us Meet In the Afternoon And…

Rehab

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Well, I finally checked myself into this what you call a “ Facebook Rehab Clinic” up here just about 40 miles outside of Kalispell, Montana in a little town called Gulag and, as I'm sure you can guess, there's no posting or commenting or liking anything anymore…

Cry Baby Cry

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The baby will not stop crying. He’s been crying for three hours straight. I’m the worst mother ever. What kind of mother can’t soothe her own baby? The bad kind.

Darker

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The moon poured more/ light into the sky/ yet we kept on talking

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 52

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In his dreamlike state the pianist turned into a preying mantis.

Three More Micros

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Three micros

(Platter of) Figs and Oranges (Set to a Warped Organ Fanfare from too Long Ago)

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Lonely kids only want this thing to go away and stay away. To not be lonely anymore. The lonely, uncool Kids have learned to be absolutely Still in the moment. Who does this fall to? They Haven't read enough Vonnegut for your liking? David Foster…

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.5 - c.3

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There were security guards running all over the place. Campus police cars, with lights flashing, at various locations in the distance. Sora gripped her books tight as they saw their dormitory building ahead.

Sisyphus

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

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 30

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Anatoly Gringovitch took a swallow of beer, thoughtfully put the cap on his Ferrari da Varese custom fountain pen, and launched into his story:

Feast

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I watch the seagulls making their quacking noises

Truths of Matters

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            “Is truth real?”—what a time for such a question to emerge! Such an elementary question, too, a pity no one was asking it two days ago.

Tales from the fictionaut Fave Side

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Into the bowl I put Tales from the Crypt, The Far Side and an episode of Numbers. Wisked for a moment, then let the dough rise.

Until Again

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Methuselah. That’s what they call him, the regulars that ride my train. Other things too, but Methuselah is the one that sticks in my mind. It seems to fit. It’s not as cruel.

What 68 Years on Planet Earth Have Taught Me

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Life is not always quixotic.

The Ice Cream Mantra

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Chant the ice cream mantra. Prance the do dah day ballet. Trot the t-bone tango two-step. Dance the livelong day away.

Leftovers

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That evening she sat on sofa and sniffled and twisted her handkerchief with her fingers. I decided it wasn't the right time to show her the picture....

Texas Was Better

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The buds were red--it seemed they were dying at the beginning. I had no idea what fall would be--bright fish composing on Beethoven Street.

Postcard from Shambhala

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Dearest Z— There is no way to describe this place. It is a pendulum, caught at mid-swing or maybe just a millimeter on the up side. It is a sense of sweeping, a cleanness. Distant clouds remind me of the day we took the train and the mountains acted petulantly,…