Most read stories

ancients

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rheumy eyes wink, gnarled hands pantomime

Anger

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Well, now it has fallen away some but I felt better about it when it was raging

Manifesto of ism

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We walk though the streets of London, New York, Paris, Prague, Barcelona, Skegness, inhaling air heavy with metaphors, eyes set alight by the microscopic pyrotechnics of quotidian symbols hitherto debased by the outmoded conventions of a bankrupt civilisation decomposing in…

Freedom

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the darkness held frieghtened by the surveillance of a distant white shimmer.

Jazz Torn

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Lungs bursting in the alleyways trying to keep with the beat.

Be Afraid

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Everything conspires to kill you:

Cabinet

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In the morning I listen through an ear-trumpet

Every Step, and There Are Lots

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Her plastic shopping bag brushes your leg. You look into it and all you see is a 2 liter of Coke, a bag of Lay’s potato chips and a package of Oreos. It’s so oddly touching, so purely American, that your heart breaks a little bit. You want to hug t

Barking at the Moon's Silhouette

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We took our turn at the younger stage. One good turn deserves another and all that crap. But does it always have to strong-arm the world's latest lovers apart with so much pushed and shoved ultra violence?So far…

I wear my square sunglasses

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square mannequin-wives who can’t look in their eyes

The Violent Kind

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But my point is, this isn’t a Thomas Kinkade. It’s not like you can pay me fifty dollars and I can drive to the Twombly store and buy another Twombly.

The 83rd Meridian West

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The priest went into the place in those parts, the priest an old pear or grape gotten ripe and then moreso, but never actually expiring . He was hunched and it looked like he was broken at some integral part, but nobody could tell for sure where. One time, a bat…

Another, Another, Another

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It’s just another Day where I feel tired, but I Don’t know why it’s so.

Delusions Well-Hid from Myself

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Today, I am almost entirely self-coincidental, though I still feel a lag lurking somewhere.

our last time

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If you had gotten pregnant our last time, in 1967 (when you lied and told me “I guess I’m finally over you,”) then our son could have been that man you saw with the drooping moustache and his coattails flying in the lobby of the building in Louisville,

Begonia {part seven}

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Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh, swoosh; the rhythmic thrust of Mezereon’s wings…Th-Bumm, th-bumm, th-bumm; the drumming of his heart…Hooou, hooou, hooou; the exhalations of his breath…

pink sizzle rizzle

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if you have a key fob, you are fired. If you have a real set of keys, you can stay

Close/Far

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If you were glassI'd fog you up With my breathI'd leave messagesPictographsIn fingerprints I'd press in closeSo would youAnd so we'd danceBut you are glassAn inch of depthTo catch my breath

I Liquidate My Assets

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My businessman does as his nature allows him. He is so cute. All day long he makes deals. He is on his phone most of the time. He raises his voice. “Fuck those fuckers, just do it,” is what he says. My businessman hedges risk on his investments by keeping…

Face to Face

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The face had become a chilling death mask.

Chest Bump Bass Detroit

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son a superfly/alligator shoe clad/networking man/working a beeper and flip phone/twisting blueberry spliffs/on ma's porch

Bubble Bath

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You wouldn’t believe an organ the size of a heart could scream like a nine-year-old sissy girl but mine did.

The List She Made

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Later your training began at the fry station. There were regular fries, curly fries, chicken tenders and breasts, and a shit ton of grease.

Going the Way of the Dodo

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her expressive sigh releasing. Sated. The last of our kind, evolving flightless we remain on the ground, culling through corpulent consumption.

Crumpled

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We wanted so much to find ourselves in a beautiful world. It was, and is, but every inviting leaf has got another hidden dangerous precedent that must be surrendered to in order to survive to see another sunset with the ones you actually…

Character & Fitness

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Character & Fitness, the opening chapter to my novel, "Death of the Dying City."

I Go Cold Keyboard at End of Day

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Excuse me, can I now ask to change my favorite childhood color from green to yellow?

The Late, Late Show

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Camilla and I watched a movie, then we were the movie. A man wandered in a decrepit house, or in a dream of a house, which had wallpaper hanging like shredded flesh and little mounds of filth and a madwoman with a butcher knife creeping from room to room with fear or…

Mothers

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No, no mother’s tenderness: she shows no sign of that … Do you know that she has them make their own bed? No, not the girl: the boys too! Yes, the boys. She humiliates them.

Mind-Body Split

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The mirror can never talk back/ unless corrupted creases of the brain/ and its recombinant physical maladies// elect to answer...