Most read stories

Scene of Mostly Unwilling Players

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Chewing on peppered peanuts, thin flakes scattered carelessly around his squat, Father unfurls his turban and mops his clammy pate with an open palm.

Shark

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Violet goes with her mother to the home, delivering cookies to old folks. She's getting to hate how she goes along with everything her mother asks. Some of her friends are rebelling already, and Violet feels something under her skin. It's still just a dark shape, lurking…

My Stuff

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Crass, vulgar, boorish, impaired, angry, depressed, jealous, regretful.

A Martyr

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I've written of this and I've written of that, Have scriven as you have it either that or this: But if you strive against the wind when you decide to piss, They say, you'll find up firing against your hat- Like some old Brother who was broiled when…

The Moon in Winter

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Winter is a particle yet unknown to science. Someday it will be described in terms of spins and magnetism. It will be set in high school physics books and there contained: look, here is winter. Graduate students will split it into cold and melancholy and poets will…

Like 37 Hiroshima Bombs

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Once in a while I have the time of my life / in this god-forsaken Earth:

Du Fu's spring scene

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state a shambles, mountains and rivers endure./meanwhile, the city hides amidst spring's thick growth . . .

Dragonfly

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Dragonfly She danced out of the burning rubble, wrapped in a shawl made of iridescent silk. It must have been her grandmother's. Her arms were wings, the silk translucent and fluttering. Fire fell from the sky. Thatched roofs, walls of mud-daubed sticks, the huts…

A Little Man on a Rainy Corner

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He is sitting in the infinite rain and the water is making him some infinite silhouette

Tatters

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inside i know my heart rattles cause outside i'm only seeing that the truth is in tatters

Into the Mirror

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Her eyes still fixed on him as if to whisper her concerns of fidelity.

The Beautiful Mercedes

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The screen door slowly opened. I was expecting the second / coming of perfection.

Me and Not Me

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Is there a homunculus in my brain guiding everything like the pilot of an airliner?

Post-Probity

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After dividing the sabliereand after the outliers roll away,disappear,or sit like a thrombus between two fingers,will there be enough in the dayfor you to watch the sun saginto its everyday tomb,to listen to the sagittal sighof a passing evening,to eat the last fruits of a…

Philip Guston, Painting, Smoking, Eating

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As far as I can tell, all he eats is wedges of cake from the plate on top of his blanket as he lies there in bed, smoking cigarettes and staring up at the painting of a pile of shoes. Or else this is a real pile of shoes building up beside the

Trompe l'oeil

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After her grief had subsided, the wife felt immediate relief. / Suddenly she was free to abandon or pursue loneliness

Bus Ride Through SF

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Bud Light, B. O. and Freeloader Heaven, they step onto the back of the bus without a cent We pass by the Karma Wash but no one gets off the bus We pass by the Endless Soup and Salad Kitchen where we witness a crowd swarming over a ch

Spring in November

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It is dead, for a time. Sometimes we are all dead for a time. Our lives leave off, sleep under the weight of snow.

In the Chambers of the End

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Tiny skiers look like beetles/on a white bedspread. /We watch them fall to earth from/the high peaks and tell ourselves this is the week that sealed it

au

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the way we fit...alchemy

Sunday Morning Series- 4: Roast Lamb of God

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Squeeze the Word into Flesh

Ballad

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Hi de ho, and hey, hey, hey; The farmer's daughter is made of hay. I went to touch her but she blew away, And noo ma hert is nae langer gay. Hi de hoo, and how do you do? The farmer's wife has a cold up her flue, And takes me away…

Metaphor Therapy

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"Psst! You can't hide behind a broken dream.The gardenia's hint that fills your air with her perfumed scent will remain like a residue on your mind. I wish there were an antidote I could share with you, but alas, my apothecary drawer is empty. Many times it's been my…

#sgmusic

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We gig, we perform, we laugh, we cry, we play our guitars, bass, drums, voice.

Fourth World

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Where are you going, boy who never was?

Metropolitan

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Metropolitan I. Atlantic harbinger of this our swaddled dawn: Mistaking moon's sea sweep for this the frown The sky's plain-countenanced creatures maytimes weep Upon the surface-sundown of our lawn, When gaily surfaced for…

Sleeping Bag Whiskey

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indelicate, as everything arrives at once.

Billing Notice

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Due to recent enhancements to our billing system, the rate per unit for your basic service can no longer be determined.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 2

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Ben exited the uptown Broadway Local at 103rd and oriented himself.

Session Fifteen

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"That it was my stepdad's fault."