Most read stories

Shadow Walker

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Night became day and back again in the span of a heartbeat, the familiar strangeness of the sudden change stinging like dust in the eye.

For J.S. Bach’s Three-hundred-twenty-eighth Birthday

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To listen is to feel embodied reason// sing and dance with consummate grace

MASS OF TANGLES

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I leapt up to retaliate when the clang of a distant door quieted my retesance. Shit, why am I so popular? I guess it was my turn to be thrown around like the guy in the Hotdog suit on the corner... Don't shoot the "Hotdog" guy... Please, please don't

Luminous Nights, 8

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Overnight Robbie had lost his youth. But since he was still only nine and his arm looked like a nine-year-old's arm, people didn't notice much at first, until he tried running. Or if he was introduced, and they went to shake his hand. He immediately lea

Houses Are Havens and the Outside Plans Your Destruction

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The first of the fires that started by the river in the abandoned mills were so hot they burned white and pale blue

Frothing At the Fountain

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When I came back from California the second time, in the summer of 1965, I was the first around our town to wear my hair long, influenced by the Beatles. And I bought a bunch of blue caps that everyone in our gang wore, with the number “69” sown on

Poem in A Dead Language Only I Understand, Translated for You

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I used to be a poet, you know. / Better, in many respects, than you.

Imaginary Photo Album

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Let me swim into your eyes. Let me show you my world. My album. My Albania. My albumen.

Eggs

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still curious of the taste of eggs finally licking my plate

Family Friend

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My student assistant was a comely young woman. A freckle faced blonde. She was from Ohio.

Swords of Rome

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Rome and Carthage wage war as Hannibal crosses the Alps and invades Italy. With him, he brings an army of barbarian hordes hellbent on reducing Rome to ash. For one young Roman soldier, Gaius, he is trapped between his loyalties to the republic, and to hi

All About the Guns

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Been looking for guns. His guns have turned up missing. He’s been looking for the guns. Looking for guns. The au-pair must’ve snuck back in And took the guns. And the baby. The baby must be crawling off with Guns again.

Real life

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He bought damaged and used sex dolls online.

Honey Gold

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your light is gonna last me through the week

I Once Knew a Sparkledrop

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"And then I, and I believe, I alone, saw this small child run..."

On Women

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She was prepared

Playing Boggle with Lowell's Mind

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lewd sinew swine

The Continuous City

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The night sky was washed gray by city lights.

Zombies In The Time of Nineteen Eighty-Four

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I was watching the bustling crowd below, sipping on a teacup full of Victory Gin when the scream, no a howl, cut through the murmuring of footsteps and telescreens.

A Requiem For The Heavyweights

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Breathe a stench of Eton musk...

Mama Blues

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the stars might be the audience or they might not be if the beat sits right next to me and hugs me nasty

The Perfume Of Wisdom

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I give you the rattle of the rattlesnake. I give you a daub of creosote. I give you the metaphysics of glue.

Bunking off

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He looked like a black paper doorway pasted onto a painting of summer.

Wounds

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Every day, a fresh new/ strain of Hell reveals itself

No Flowers in June

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Of flowers there Are none In June No sun Upon my cheek The gentle breeze Stirs me not The smiles They cloud my vision Birds they Sing their songs But I hear Them not When tears Rain down My heaven.

The Fetishist

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Sex is a fetish war -- a battle of trinkets of desire

Pork Rinds

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Johnny Rocket is on the I-pad, sad, He says, “Game on, King me, the Queen” Always "it", he eats pork rinds like mad, “King him again” high on amphetamine.In his sleep, ants come up from the floor board to eat french fries, cola, their aorta…

Excavation

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"the dark velvet slide of the tongue."

Take Back the Night

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A woman who is, say, a culinary arts champion or an heiress devoted to literature such as Bryher (Annie Winifred Ellerman) or Peggy Guggenheim might be able to turn me on, turn me out, turn me around.

1st and Goal

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My grandfather was ninety three. My mother was sixty three. I was thirty three. My daughter had just turned three. Our ages were all lined up like the beauty marks on Snow White in the Donald Barthelme version of the story.