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Delivery

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"You are not a vintage radio. Not even close."

Rags to Riches to Rags: Prologue

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My grandfather rode with the Czar’s army. He was abducted from a village in Austria, trained to pillage and drink, plunder and rape, and ride the best horses that could be had. They were given the best vodka and the sharpest swords. They were all just boy

Vanya

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That spring the war still moved north but we did not go to it any longer.

SIX POLITICALLY INCORRECT SONG LYRICS

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I hope I don’t have aches and pains in heaven Cause here on Earth I ache in all my parts These old bones don’t have the spring they used to I sure hope heaven has electric shopping carts

My Kentucky Fried Ascension (Memoir)

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...as a boy I rode once in an elevator with Colonel Sanders...

If Everything is Inevitable

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Christine comes back from the future looking tired, which is the opposite of what I expected. For some reason, I imagined the future as being invigorating. But she walks into the apartment and abandons her suitcase by the front door, collapses into a heap on the couch next…

The Longfellow Bridge Diaries: Part 2

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They sway from his hips, the torn knapsack, and the corners of the pushcart

Miss

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On Saturday mornings, by noon, the delivery car comes from Boston and unloads fresh bread and sandwiches, pork ribs and ground pork stuffed inside of breads and buns and banana leaves, bean shakes, and sticky rice desserts.

Lang's Dragon

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Fritz Lang. Even before I ever met the miserable son of a bitch, with his monocle and superior airs, I hated him. In person, he was an insufferable asshole.

Nevertheless The Plan Was Not Implemented

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Thomas Friedman was right when he said, “Much of this biodiversity in Indonesia is now under threat.” It had been this way since gasoline became currency; I remember bartering with The Governance for the newest edition of The Guinness Book of

Settling

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But she knew what she would find. She knew it all the moment she felt the sticky fingerprints behind the slat of her old oak slay bed. The fingerprints that would only be left from a person grabbing it from behind their head. The fingerprints that she

Cactus Subconscious

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The voice in the sand: "If it has soul you must funk it."

Dunes

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I went out through another cold still morning erasing my steps behind me not because I did not want to be followed but because I did not want to find my way back again.

Anhedonia (excerpt)

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Things have happened. It’s a given. What, are you crazy? Of course things have happened. It’s the world, for Christ’s sake. Things are happening. I am consistently missing most, if not all, of them.

What's missing from their bodies is nothing compared to what's missing from their heads.

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What's missing from their bodies is nothing compared to what's missing in their heads. One man in particular, now almost 80. Wakes to the smell of napalm, cigarette smoke, gasoline. Is he still feverish? Will the fungus rot his foot? But he remembers he

White

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“White,” he says. -- “Black,” I answer.

Pi in the Sky

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The possibility for numerous outcomes – the possibility of anything, really – lives on the writer’s page.

Zohra El Fassia by Erez Bitton

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Poem: Zohra El Fassia by Erez Bitton

The Last Words of a Genius

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The crowd gathered around the dying man's bed, waiting for his last words. He was a genius. The most prolific writer and philosopher to ever live. He wiped his ass with the words of Shakespeare. The thoughts of Plato, Socrates, Descartes, and Nietzsche w

The Hamster Eulogies

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But not once did we mention heaven. The next day we bought another one.

Arcana Magi - c.5: Will

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She stood there with ladylike maturity; her eyes were frightening with an unforgiving look, visible in her tears that pierced the very core of Oryn’s heart.

Hoss Men

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I stood there skinny-as-a-half in “big hair,” ankle boots, and black eyeliner. P. was in radio, not books. He had a sense of humor. I was researching a different man for a novel.

Cactus

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I counted telephone poles and the seconds between them. The old highway cut straight through the sand and it seemed the road would never end. No curves. No hills. Just poles.

Soviet

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The neatly-gentrified Mtsensk District plaster buckled in all the right grey-painted places. The aged, yellowing windows rose and fell in fashionable decay. It was a well-upholstered citizen's slum, drawn to exacting state specifications. Local housing authorities…

stinking nightgown

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Frank says if I eat the whole bowl of live crickets he’ll give me five dollars and his grandfather’s silver bullet from the war.

...And Nail

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For twenty-eight years, Cochran Baines removed a tooth from the mouth of every dead child that spent time on his table.

Gang Bangs, and My First Time, Almost

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Glen always had to be the first to fuck his sister, especially before that big galoot from down the street, whom Cheryl really liked to fuck, otherwise Glen would get violent. She had just started having her periods then, I remember. We were all there one

The Elvis Latte

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Elvis at a Starbucks. Some graphic words.

The Accordion

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If I play my accordion too loudly while you're painting, you complain. You stamp about in your room under mine. You fetch the broom from the closet and use it to thump vehemently on the ceiling. I feel the vibrations through my feet.

Summer Girl

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You’re bro­ken. Your eyes don’t see quite right, and your hands don’t feel quick enough. I love you any­way.