Most read stories

The Gentleman on the Train

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The gentleman is discreet, but his eyes wander from his paper at intervals as we travel together from London to Manchester. We happen to be on the same train and he happens to be sitting opposite me. I happen to be a size 34C.

Leaking

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The bathroom faucet is leaking again. Do they make diapers for faucets?

Fast

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Everything seems still, but it's not.

Rocket

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The Chicago to Denver fast train clocked 90 MPH plus, but braked hard on the long curve through town, sparks ringing flanged wheels.

Sole Music

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You're on the good side of thirty, probably with a little girl or boy of your own sleeping at home, and here you are dragnetting at three in the morning. We're all broken, and the scars we trade are all that remains of our fragile, once complex lives.

The Evacuation Queue

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The ticking must have gone on for an hour before Kathy realized it wasn't a clock. When the line finally moved, the rhythm changed. When the queue stopped again, she glanced behind her and noticed a woman in torn jeans and a filthy sweater tapping a heel on the…

Fatherhood 101

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The instructor moved over to the whiteboard and wrote in big block letters “FOOTBALL” and then crossed it out. “You should just never treat your newborn like a football. That means no passing it or punting it.

From This Distance

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Yes, I can imagine it now/ how we could each disappear completely/ connected only through memory's fault lines/

Mexican Audio

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Chromio citrio sticky-floored furio...

Annabel 4 Dan

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Burne-Jones hair and big-boned body ever-suggestive of a Titian Venus ... [meets] ... warm like toast, grey smiling eyes and dartingly light-footed,

The Secret of Healers and Monsters

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If there was a single constant in the boy’s life, it was that he had always thrown knives. In his youth he had thrown them only in his mind . . .

Happy Is a Poem

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no need to write it if you/ live it, conscious of the light, the/ shape, the sound, the taste, and shadow.

Master of Puppets

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“There’s enough food to last here a week.” Ferdinand assured, as a dingy wooden cabin came into view. They were on foot now. He’d insisted on forcing the car into a ravine, using a heavy rock and the last of the gasoline to drive it into a heap of rusted

The Fourth Prague Defenestration: 19

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But when the KGB went out the castle window, what a surprise was waiting for them. Because we had lined the pit with a huge dung heap, and camouflaged it with a colored pink wrapping as if it were feathers, just like Cristo had done. We wrapped the shit p

The Scarlet Tanager and the Sparrows

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“Eat more bugs,” said an old one.

The Weather in Paradise

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I immediately felt anxious guilt, being the one responsible for opening the way for infection.

The Infinite Wheel, Hold That Taxi

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Scientists have discovered what I already did once on dope way back in the Sixties. There are so many other earths out there that they are almost infinite. Now in our other lives we have to shuttle from planet to planet reading our poems. And o

"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

The Fourth Prague Defenestration: 15

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The Fourth Defenestration took place in September of that year, and it became an instant internet sensation. Mostly because of the fall from great heights into an enormous pile of haufen mist, arranged by a bunch of henchmen pals of Boris and Vladimir

Shooting Smoke

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In our first conversation, she tells me love is a dragon: she has come across it’s destruction, hears of it’s size, mythology, of it’s immorality. I sip my hot cocoa (God, I pray she thinks it is coffee)...

Blood on Her Hands

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Only blood I got on me was pulling him over onto my seat when I got out.

solace

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the frost has made all tender greens bow

The Street to Here

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poem

The Breakup

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Don’t break things, I add. And he looks at me like I’ve broken everything else.

astral ages

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Life in astral circles

Ossian City

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I hear the shriek of the Laughing Lady

Ankles

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At five o’clock Jake joins the crowd at the back door, walks through the slush to the parking lot with Betty Boop.

Love in the Afternoon

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“What took you so long?” she asks. She seldom asks me that when we’re done, but today I feel ready to protract the glory, to tease out its rise and fall like the lingering chords of a Debussy pastorale.

The Conversation

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Listening is loving. What is more erotic than these fathoms, skeins, words, roping tight the ardent ear.

Women on Motorcycles

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Do you want this, you ask, and hand me a blue silk shirt of hers with small yellow flowers. I'm afraid to say no, in case it makes you remember all over again.