Most read stories

the dreamer of eggs

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How much sucking, faithlessly, can there be? The body being a night thing off which steam rises, that attracts like a magnet or loadstone, whose curls attract, whose ringlets or tufts of touched hair between the legs glory up the nightly watched miracle,

Jack Noodle

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So you printed your resume on this coffee cup - that’s something - I wanted you guys to think about me every morning - while you were getting your coffee

Musica

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A sizzling as skin and sinew melt, fall away. "Scream if you need to scream, child." And I scream, and her song gains strength. The warmth of her around me. It is time.

Quintet in a Natural Key

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I like the cool and dark beneath my rock./ It protects me from the glare and scorch/ of noonday sun and the chilling shadows/ of midnight moon.

There Is No Glass

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I'm a heathen in the church of the absolute.

Airline Passengers! Is There A Right To Recline?

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It's called the Knee Defender. But I prefer to think of it as the Schmuck Identifier.

Induce Me

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Life's a beach? A bitch? Same thing.

Good boy.

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It’s quite simple - don’t move. No fake or feint - just stand your ground. The fixed gaze, the thousand yard stare, hold your place.

Sorry

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...society has tampered with its denotation so much that it is almost incomprehensible without context.

Time. Stop.

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So young. So innocent. How do you tell a little one that her mother is dying? The father seemed to be bathing in a sea of hopelessness lately.

One Story Above the Boy in an Old Car

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Near dusk today a car backfired on the street beneath my office window

The Black Madonna

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They say I am filthy. On this high pillar I perch like a stuffed avian relic, flightless, no prey. The horizon before me is broken by scuff and foreign tongue, by atomized evil. Pleas, and there are many, are answered by the only prayer I know, the one prayer, which…

The Stranger

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“I can't go to sleep,” Jonathan said, laying on the doctor's couch. He counted on his fingers to keep his mind active. “I'll certainly die if I do.”

Buzzard

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what lies, in my eyes

Goodbye

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In the end, he knew he wasn’t going home.

Remembering Daffodils

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the burning thrusts/ of yellow in defiance of the frost

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…

How the 60's Ended

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The Beatles on TV their last show together as a group and we all knew it smoking dope sitting around in large groups in living rooms across the universe they sang Let It Be and The Long and Winding Road knowing a man

Excelsior - A Poem in 9 Parts (post 2 of 5)

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II. ByCoalport Your hair streams minarets across a bridge, The…

rewind...

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here’s the deal… sorrow follows tears… pain later for the happiness now… is the joy something we only borrow…?

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...

Gummi Worms, Love, etc.

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It was R who embodied love for me. We’d eaten gummi worms in the park, held them up to the sun, yellow and green and translucent. When we returned to her flat, they were everywhere. I’d never seen such a thing. They hung in the air, these gummi worms.

Widow Walk

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She heads toward the end of the island and doesn't look back.

Audience

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At 19 words, the whole piece is a snippet.

Гумилёв и Ахматова via странников

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Walking down an unfamiliar street, / I heard a sudden caw of crows, / some thunder afar, strums of a lute— / a streetcar came flying along.

The Etymology of Fun

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Tell people of substance the truth.

Dirty Deeds

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Mustard stings the corner of his lips. He swipes it away with a finger, and looks closer at the hot dog. The piece of meat is ripped open like a sliced finger stuck in a doughy bandage

My First Love Messages Me On Facebook

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He tells me that he thinks he reached out as he needed healing and I wonder if I should diagnose him on the spot, explain what years of therapy taught me about him. I don't. Instead I compliment a photograph of the pot plants he grows, organic,

I

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I thought of you todayand what you put me throughthe time you saidwe couldn't rest.

Betsy

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Lester walked back into the house. He was hungry but didn’t know what he wanted to eat. Really, he couldn’t remember how to fix anything he wanted. He walked over to turn on the television, but couldn’t find the on/off button. Surely the damn thing had an