Most read stories

The Museum

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Flicking through the sheets on her clipboard, Evelyn double checked the address with the mismatched numbers on the letterbox. Its mouth was a rusty, gaping grin like it had lost its dentures.

The Cherry

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He then spent his walk home to his single apartment spitting up various textures of red, combinations of cherry and blood mostly.

Another Way

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If there was another way to describe emptiness, I'd word the endlessness of the sky, of the ocean at low tide.

Ways and Means

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the bodies of the poor become/ a simple logistical problem,/ disposable as any gnawed bones

philanthropy from a cardboard box + a detour to Han-shan

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philanthropy corrugated with a smirk / printed aside every cardboard box and room / every cardboard house with every cardboard door.

A taste of competition

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We called him Mickey Habanero, because he could fill his mouth with the hottest food imaginable, the kind packed with the sort of heat that would melt the gums from the teeth of a novice, all without taking a drink of milk or anything else that would otherwise soothe the…

Barrier Island

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At the beach house

Sayōnara

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He painted a woman on them, identical to the woman that kneeled by his bed.

Meaning of Life # 18

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To hell with the moon!

Phyllis Shapely

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In December of 2003, Daniel Arredondo succumbed to his years long battle with colon cancer. If the name is unfamiliar, you're not alone. He did not answer to the name Daniel Arredondo. For most of his life, from seventeen years old to the end, in fact, he went by the name…

Family Friend

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

Nine Women

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"Haven't you ever had some little thing you would rather everyone just left you alone about? I don't like to have my picture taken. Please don't ask me again."

An Open Letter To Lance Armstrong

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When I get my legs pumping, I’ll pop a spoke if I'm not careful. Massive fucking energy! And all that fat I was talking about? I don’t even really have that much of it, any of it really. My body fat is like one percent, which the doctors tell me isn’t

Sick Day

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Marcy was not herself today, her mother said when the school called. She was under the weather and she could not play with the other children. Marcy's mother began to suspect that her daughter was not herself very early on that day. Walking up the stairs Dolores…

Honey Gold

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your light is gonna last me through the week

the global obscenity of your monthly $100 coffee habit [revised]

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My sixth grade teacher used to tell us all the time about how being poor is nowhere near the same as liv­ing in poverty.

Quittin' Ain't Easy

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Hey, Y'all! Like I told y'all, I 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. I quit MySpace and that got me a reduced rate. Things are…

loose threads

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Blankets were always her undoing.

Summerset Bangs from Oldtown

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blackberry pie and huckleberry wine and litte Maria with her summerset bangs

Twilight of the Trotters

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Neither you nor I is old enough, of course, to remember that America’s most popular athlete once was a horse.

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

Miss Zoldac's Fifth Grade Class Balloon Launch

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INSTRUCTIONS: To all students, please address your index card: "To the Finder of this Balloon." Beneath that, write something that will encourage the finder to email you back. Then tape the index card to your balloon's string.Happy Ballooning! To the Finder…

Purpose

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I gave you two daughters. I gave you four grandchildren. I'm done.

In Real Time

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We are the same shits/ we were in the Bronze Age

The Sentence

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Two women are escorted to the desert, where they are shackled to the ground. Who are they, what have the done, and will they survive?

Mean Time

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between

Cleaverly Done!

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‘what’s the hassle kiddo, chopping meat is fun, come here and listen to the music of the chop, the sound of steel ripping through air, slicing through flesh and hitting wood, poetry I say’.

All Men With Well Trimmed Beards

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Or, do my own red flags counter balance his. My back and forth, my restlessness, my one foot out the door, my ‘once a leaver… always a leaver’, my pitter patter for a former flame... peppered with my transgressions, my mistakes. Or, worse, the way I have

Assiduity Twenty

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I experience a presence when walking through the forest . . .

Linear A

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let’s press our words into the clay/ in language so completely dead/ we have to re-imagine it.