Most read stories

Put Your Trust in God

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God is my stomach.

Secure

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This is the Minuteman tine/ of the three-tined fork// we can stick into the modern world/ when it’s done-- a MAD triad.

The Window (Part II)

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When we saw the window, we were impressed. It was so clean and transparent that it reminded us of a new pair of glasses, everything so crisp and clear through it. It looked on to nothing. Actually it looked on to the refridgerators and a few stoves, though most of the…

Rope & Bone '86

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His shirts he hangs on the back of the chair, one on top the other so they won't wrinkle.

The Mutes

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Some people are born that way, and some people do things to themselves that keep them from talking. Like opening up a soda bottle with your mouth.

The Girl I Danced With Is Now A Man

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You can't always be everything you were expected to be

Another Ending

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you tell a stranger's story...

LADY WOOD

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I was sleeping in a pile of teenage bodies soft limb spread over soft thin limb.

At the Brooks Brothers Hip Hop Summit

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I pat my pocket to make sure everything’s in order; a Starbucks blueberry scone to sustain me, a $50 Brooks Brothers gift card from my in-laws, and my “piece”–a fully-charged BlackBerry handheld device.

When Bad Things Happen To Other People

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Years ago, I was involved in a freakish tragedy so startling and heartbreaking that it made the front page of not only my local newspaper, but “People” and “The National Enquirer.” I'm not going to tell you anything about it. This means that…

Stones

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The manicured lawn rolls down either side of the knoll, punctuated with flat granite plaques, the occasional bouquet of cut flowers, a smattering of faded eight-inch American flags.

The Neighbors

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The first apartment Troy and Lynn lived in was managed by an alcoholic former army officer, who lived in the complex with his wife and teenage daughter. He was a lush who didn't do much in the way of management. Lynn had barely noticed him before Troy moved in with her.…

Washing the dishes...

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There are certain items in the sink that are giving me an anxious feeling in my stomach.

The Birthday Jump

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I remember the first & only time I parachuted it was 1964 my 16th birthday a rite of passage if you will from the old man an aerospace engineer & former WWII B24 bomber pilot I practice-jumped from oil barrels taught how to fall back then when the time came…

Perfect Lady

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The Tea Party member was married but cuter. He worked as a caulker, a tub and basin man.

it

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where will we be/ when it happens?

April, Thirteen

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There is a roofer straddling part of our house, pushing shingles off of our roof with the edge of a shovel. …. I've thought seriously, at times, about becoming a nurse. Seeing your mother in a hospital bed, hooked up to a tube, more than one, too…

The Watchers

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Up at the top, a quarter mile south, billows of black smoke crawled up the faint blue of the sky.

Forever and a Day

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Just an abnormal visit to the post office.

Revisionist History

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A break from bleak world history and events...

Strange Humidity

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The kitchen is full of old girlfriends. I avoid them. They are munching on cheddar and sharing stories I'm sure I don't want to hear.

The Shopkeeper

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His eyes are closed yet restless, as if too many thoughts loop beneath the lids.

sabotage

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people keep trying to get me/ "out of the house"./ they see fun in me, and cool in me,/ and want to spend time with me,/ and i am flattered most sincerely./

Two Weeks in a Dristan Land

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I smelled the bleach of burst anemones the sweet arousal of the Dungeness crabs the seaweed of sour twigs and feces

Sunset

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Behind the bellicose façade lay a soft, compassionate soul. He sat within a swirl of rosy twilight hues, buoyed by the gently creeping tide. A dark wall approached and he mechanically spun and began stroking into the glassy canvas of light and ocean that lay between him…

Prelude to Pain

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Grayson Warren is living the American Dream: a 15-year career as a city cop, a great wife and two kids. And then one day his dream turns into a nightmare.

Dream World

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I don't mind being dead. It's ok. Really. I've discovered a whole new way of being based on non-being. What else can you do? I like being invisible. I like groaning and rattling chains. I used to be a writer. Still am. In fact, it might be more accurate to say that…

A Poem for Chris Toll

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we all die from the bottom up

Any migration is forced

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I’m not / going to change you I /promise

Richardson

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What is golf?