Most read stories

At Twelve (Abridged Edition)

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She has dwindled for the better part of a year, staved off her period, breasts and hips like a warrior. Chestnut strands that danced along candy apple cheeks now surrender to metal pins, her bun severe as an old maid's. Her prominent ears…

Playground in the Fire

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People questioned my motives when I became a smokejumper again. They said I had a death wish, or that somehow by going into battle against the big Pacific Northwest forest fires, I was still trying to put out the flames of the burning car in which my sons Jake (age…

walk off the animal

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I don’t know how some can do it. Can they just walk off the animal in the yard or something, and forget about love altogether? Some have that built-in coldness of the soul, I guess. I don’t get it. The blood does not seem to shake their hearts. Are th

We Cannot Cross the River

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We cannot cross the river until it freezes. Bekker predicts January. For food we gather leaves, berries and roots from the thick forest behind the cabin. Suarez boils what we find into a revolting paste that we spoon into our mouths with dirty fingers.

Dashboard Jesus

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When I first started this, a few months ago, I was timid about looking people in the eye.

No Regrets

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The ability to "see the ball" is a gift.

On Desire

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For two days his parents had been fighting, and they would tell him to tell the other one something every morning that was supposed to be some sort of slight at their personal failings, which had been inflamed by their twenty years of marriage.

Myra's Middle Name

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Maybe our whole generation is going to hell, but I’m not getting any younger or better looking. Life’s too short for the missionary position.

Lastborn

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Being the baby in a family forces a focused outlook on life. Not necessarily profound, not even wry, but a perspective that pushes for two things - recognition, and to be in on whatever is going on.

Your Tits Make My Feathers Fall Off

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He thought she should have come with an owner’s manual So he would know how to operate the equipment It was definitely more than he bargained for Or knew how to handle She was too hot

A Thousand Miles Away

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In the house by a kidney-shaped lake, her grandfather was speaking to a stranger about a foreign war that had never ended, had spread close to home.

Exile

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Dandelions wither as I approach and the grass dies under my feet.

Monday Lunch

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Earlier that morning a tree in the yard had filled with starlings, and on the way home after lunch, the sky held planes that looked like starlings, floating together.

Eskimos Happened to Come Wandering By

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Meet Carl. He's six-three, two hundred and thirty pounds. He has light-brown hair,…

Vulgarity

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suddenly she blurts out: “You are vulgar.” There is actually no perfect translation to it. “Bastos ka.” She meant I was vulgar, but also disgusting, distasteful, offensive, rude, salacious, obnoxious…

MUSE

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The bar was dark and a little dirty, and that suited Splinker's mood just fine.

Scars

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Who hasn't got a scar...some flesh wound of memory.

Melanie

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But now she was no longer the little girl.

Napomo 17: April 19 – 24

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There are no inspirations./ There are only the things I like/ and the much more numerous// things I do not like.

Accuracy

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The form I completed yesterday filled out several attachments, including one for passive business loss. I did not believe I had incurred business loss, just that I was freelancing part-time.

XAM, PARAGRAPH, May 22, 1998, Houston, Texas

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I wrote this paragraph (the first in a series of 14 paragraphs) shortly after Frank Sinatra had died and during my last visit to my boyfriend, M. He had not seen me write something in years.

Lire's Children, After the Swans

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our eyes misted white as goatskin

Solitary Lunatics Up On The Roof

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Up top, the sky is like a fist fight- fat lip purple and bitchslap pinks get wilder as the tabs kick in. Those hovering lights are aliens! we assert with insistent like-mindedness from where we sit directly beneath the airport flight path.

Four from “Autobiographies”

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The white space beckons-/ a blank wall in a decrepit neighborhood-/ wishing to be decorated or defiled

early spring

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the late snow, though not welcomed...

Psychological Profile for "Joe"

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He boasts of administering regular beatings to his wife and claims that she enjoyed it.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 60

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That is a pretty damning statement.

Koch Brothers

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When Chuck dies, I’ll throw/ a party and dance, a little drunk,/ across what I’ll pretend/ is the old shit’s grave.

The Rats

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I climb up on the sofa and stand next to him. I smell something.

1962, What I wanted

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1962, What I wanted was a Levittowner rancher like my best friend had,