Most read stories

Elementary

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He, an irregular chap, Was known for his hat with a flap. Had fleet feet and a very strong back.

Madison Court House

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I call beauty to me With the architecture Of this place Beauty that has no doubt Been pulled to me All its life

Rule of exchange

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She seizes my hand. I resist just enough to sense her strength.

Exhumation

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the poems/ we never got to will remain,

Yogurt

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Later, you've hit that four shot espresso limit; you've snarfed down that too rich mushroom korma… gone before you tasted it.

Before Language

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Living in the dark ages without language, I think I’ve been dead long enough. You can come out of the vast fields of night. Come out of the vast galactic storm without light. The darkened dreams that speed past with their false and brightly lit

60 is the new 20

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I once saw a TV commercial that showed a group of Anglo retirees laughing around a card table. The slogan 60 is the new 20 floated beneath their fat, fun-loving heads. My parents are bona fide Baby Boomers. Their lives are build on credit and catchy…

Politics

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These days, you seem to disappear like bread tasted and devoured

The Campus Socialists

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The Campus Socialists Paul and Mary Jo lived in an apartment at the top of a long, dark flight of stairs that were so high, I remember as if it were yesterday thinking, the night she pushed him down the stairs, he would surely be dead by the time h

She’s Dead

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Hank: Yeah, the way her head was bashed in, it looks like someone really had it in for her. Did you call the coroner? Bill: Yeah. Boy, you couldn’t pay me enough to do the stuff those coroner and medical examiner guys do. It seems like

The Tourists at the Museum

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For the camera she smiles otherwise not and only when she is standing beside him But for the camera? for the crowd for posterity yes For their children for the future? yes, again yes a thousand times until her face be

My Plastic Dreams

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Once, in the past or future, but definitely not in the present, I worked as a transportation minister for a friendly dictator, whose name was neither Hitler, nor Stalin, nor Kim Jong-Un, but whose mustache was toothbrush, whose smile was sardonic to the p

Nevermore

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One said 'Yes, I remember.' He was dark and tall and slender A masterful pretender who laid roses on the floor Appearing on the eve of morrow, so slow and full of sorrow With a costume he did borrow, borrowed from the poet's lore From the rare and rad

A Cool Dry Place PART 1

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There are times when she is heavy and times when she is light.

small pleasures

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sheets, white, coarse redolent with Clorox

Canvas

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The artist with fork and trowel. The paint; soil, seed, seedling or plug.

Timmy's Singularity

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Suddenly, the room was filled with a screaming vortex directed at a pinpoint in the corner. Timmy's bureau was gone and everything loose in the room was flying towards the spot it had occupied. Timmy stood up in horror. He tried to seal this rent by tossi

Trick or Treat

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A Halloween drabble. Happy Halloween to all!

A Sight Worth Keeping in View

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. . . I wanted to put Tiffany out of her misery and mine and shove her in front of the next large vehicle hurtling down the drive-through lane . . . .

True Stories About False Dancers

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The world is a mighty funny place. It spins wildly and we are held down by its strong ghostly gravity. We're still able to communicate with one another over morning coffee and delicious cake donuts dipped in chocolate. Some of us used to keep…

My First Horror Show

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I remember screaming and wanting to run from the living room that time you came home drunk.

Are You A Handywoman? Take This (Not Entirely Serious) Test and Find Out!

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As I was reading “Not Your Mother's Book on Home Improvement,” a new collection of light-hearted essays by (primarily) middle-aged female do-it-yourselfers, it became abundantly clear to me that, unlike the women who tell their stories here, I am not a…

PROMISES

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There was a bird on the windowsill, a sparrow, its silhouette backlit by a view of Uptown. She remembered many sparrows during her forced trips to Mercy Hospital...That was all over now...

Trying to remember something else, I recall supreme and utter solitude in a far off time and place

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Before the war...

Lost Among the Consonants

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I'm writing our initials in black sharpie on the tunnel wall. There's already people who have come before me, hundreds of pairs of Qs and As and hearts in the middle, through a small hole in the brick I can hear the French accents, spinning through, a reminder that I am…

bloodletting and the strobe of hearts

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the injured color wheel of the world

Upstream

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Rain pours down in a world transformedthrough thunder. The storm rages, night takes on a weight, and everyone hides, most from habit, some from fear. She stands there, soaked and beautiful, responding to the…

Consequently, I Rejoice

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The infinite terrifies.

Halitosis

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I laughed hysterically at Austin Powers.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 47

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—Mr. Martinelli, can you explain how you developed your painting technique?