Most read stories

Natural History

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It sits up tall on its hind legs to take in all of whatever this is, big and bluer than the sky, death's own taxicab parked on its doorstep.

Rock Band Days

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There were guitar players, and as happens with talent sometimes, the guitar players were too talented. There could not be places for all of them in a single rock band.

Eggs

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still curious of the taste of eggs finally licking my plate

Hand Grenades, or The Child in Your Eyes is Exploding the Known Universe

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There is a war, but is it not In my heart? There is a war, but You are not the reason. There is a War, but we're all doing what we can. There is a war, but it is not just Your fight. There is a war, but I Wished you still walked…

After Eliot

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Her breath was on me

The Good Ship - Forgotten

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As I gripped the wheel and stared at the expanse above my head, my compass spun wildly. Something wasn't quite right

Daily Living

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When we are given eternity, as a night is eternal

Loveless Lover

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Love me like a crutch Love me when I'm strong

Not Good Enough

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So where does that leave me, Roscoe Loomis wondered, dismounting his silver, aluminum steed in his sweat-soaked, spandex outfit, and, clearing the saliva from his beard he walked over, checked and smiled, learning that the bike track's timing unit showed it was Roscoe's…

The Tourists

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He thought of his field trip from the previous year, of Prague’s museums, statues, squares, architecture, restaurants, and various modes of transport. The town offered none of these and surely no cinema, no crowds of people, not even an old church.

Mon in the forest: a fragment

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Mon wakes up surrounded by trees. The light is grey, the trunks black.How long have I slept? he wonders.He doesn't know which way to walk. In every direction, the same prospect of trees. He looks up at a blank sky. No sign even of the sun.***He starts walking. Slowly,…

Caterpillar on a Chalkboard

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What do you want me to tell you about this next full moon cycle that you don't already intuitively seem to have touched upon in your latest bout of almost there dreams? It too will pass? That it is a totally different unfair animal from the repellent one already…

Burned

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They called him “Albert, the Human Armadillo,” and he was. Rows of hard scales ran down the course of his chest, and he was studied and biopsied by doctor after doctor. “Psoriasis,” they said. “Or, eczema.” They prescribed ointments and oils that left him

You Don't Need To

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You need only one who notices.

Edge of Wolf

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edge of wolf howls and howls past sunflowers and skeletons

Apex

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You left paint and blood smeared on the wall.

Ascension of the Conquistador

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One of Montejo's cap­tains has us drilling in the rain again. The sun hasn't shone for days and the air is sti­fling, like try­ing to breath under water. Every­thing looks gray except the palms. Each green leaf droops in the rain like a…

Shadowland

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His touch, even now, seemed to set off tremors inside her.

it

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where will we be/ when it happens?

How To Laugh and Be Happy When Not Drinking

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That is the question, not to be or not to be Life, death, whether to be, all that is superfluous in the face of laughter and how to achieve it under extraordinary circumstances like not drinking anymore I’m afraid not all the alcoh

(On Tuesday...)

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On Tuesday, he wears his suit to the cafe. Of course they'll let him pay! Of course. Under the table, his wife accepts their wadded bills.

Sinking to the beat

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I'd wear my pajamas too, fitting for the big sleep

The perfectly banal postcards...

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“There are so few uses for Crisco, that to keep it in the house seems an unnecessary temptation,” said my health teacher.

Lord of the Poets

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I almost caught a poet today.

Ferdinand Gets Married

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You have the right to be happy

Jeremy

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My name is Jeremy, and I am in love with a zombie.

Books

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'Like poems,’ I said she paused and nodded her black mop.

Bunker

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Dressed as an English professor on Halloween I escape the red devil and run downtown. I go to the Art Car hangar I dance, I swing my golden brown briefcase

Blue Baby

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they taught art

Marks in the Sand (Poetry-Rhythm)

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I am only ever What you seem to be Without the leverage Of sweet reality