Most read stories

The Brevity of Anthropology

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In time's embroidery, the human storyis a short stretch of a short strand within the thread of half a knot-and that stretch of strand's defective. What will mourn us when we're gone?Not the plants which live so lightly on the earth.Not the scorpions and not the ants.Perhaps…

Suicide Consulting Hotline

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We exist to facilitate/ successful conclusions of hopeless lives.

140 Words on Solitude and Being Alone

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As a child I drowned myself in the pages of books, and as a writer I prefer to be left alone with my imagination.

The Sapaat Swarm

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About three dozen people, the doctor told him, dwelt in the small village until there had been a dry spell—a drought the likes of which no one in the region had ever seen before. Theories abounded as to the cause of the drought as theories do: a curse by

On Deciding Not to Be a Bitch

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Deny yourself that pleasure For my sake; that feeling beyond measure That you get when you finally, and with much angst, Decide not to be a bitch, to a round of general thanks.

Bearable

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"Don't be dense."

A Ship of Bones

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Make paddles of his hands Use his skull to bail Rig his thigh bones for a mast And his skin to make a sail

small pleasures

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sheets, white, coarse redolent with Clorox

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?

Slivers from the edge

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Four ships anchor Far off shore Chains slip Beneath the swell.

The memories lived in the house

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each act of creation is a jolt of expectation

Poet Found Living Near Berkeley!

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Reports have been spreading fast that an actual living poet has been found right outside the borders of Berkeley Rumors grew into a wildfire of speculation Saturday night when one of them a tall graying older specimen more or less in the

The Strength of Glass

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They sit across from each other and she smiles as if they were in a normal place.

Black Friday Crime Scene

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Her name was Christine and she was nailed to the cross of their lust and their greed, and their vengeance

A Tangled Web of Likes

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Liking up with the Joneses...

2011

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This year, 2011, you bring about my thirtieth year. I'm apprehensive about this, but mainly because my father made me watch "Logan's Run" as a kid...

Advice To A Young Poet

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Touch these words with your mind. They will create an elephant with an unidentifiable itch.

It's not heavenly light, b!*&#.

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He stopped believing in God when he learned how balls worked. Spermatocytes turned into spermatids and spermatids turned into spermatozoa, the transition taking place in tiny loop de loops called the seminiferous tubules which contain at least three…

Bog Crossing

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Written within five minutes, being a parody of the artless vacuity of observational 'poetry'(By Tedward Weeney and Seamus Spews) The large wind in the treetop tells the blackbird its own voice. The yellow grainyard resounds to the clodding of my farmer's…

Upwards, Into the White Eye Rising (Parts 1-3)

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The Argument: A couple of young female lovers, one slightly older than the other one, decide to part ways. The elder has contracted a terminal illness, and they decide the best way to part ways would be by joining together through a suicide pact.…

Ways of Seeing: Carracci

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I have become interested in Carracci / Ludovico Carracci

Braque's Diary of the Atelier Cut-Outs

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Today, the buxom neighbor carrying blintzes Egged me not to care about What’s not flat. She forgot To bend, clanging together Some fronts and sides.

Love Verse

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A gentle man, and a fierce woman, charmed one another in a shaded gazebo.

Fifty Bucks, More or Less by

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Klout

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while you peed on that little old lady's begonias

Transgression

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I look as sympathetic as I can, under the circumstance, which is entirely unsympathetic.

My best

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I don't have time

The Frog

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Publisehd in Linguistic Erosionhttp://www.linguisticerosion.com/2014/08/the-frog.html When Jesus and Magdalene began to cross the sunflower field they met a group of boys, squatting before a rocky outcrop. Covered with…

Swan Song of the Pareto Optimalists

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I nearly burst out laughing when I heard myself telling him in my accented English that she’d confided in me that she was preparing to sacrifice herself as part of an elaborate snuff film produced by a band of psychotic artists hell-bent on making up for