Most read stories

Menelaus Supporting Patroclus

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He remembers, he touches, he lifts and kisses the mouth.

The curtain

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In the evening the curtain recounts its day. Faces, images, incidents it has observed from the window. Its voice is nuanced, modulated, quivering, for it is made of lace. It appears to crochet its words with needle sounds. My eyes, during confinement, are not wide open, not…

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

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

Reality TV is Dead

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Welcome to the world of (un)reality television. He/she who dies with the most stories wins. Another kind of religion. The Church of Being Famous For Whatever.

When the Germans Were on the Roof of the World

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Flew a Messerschmitt. Drove a tank over people in Poland though not in Prague, and claimed he was never a guard at the death camps.

Twilight, Nov. 07, 05:50am

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Light spreads its way across the sky like a drop of inkon dry cotton sheets:starts at one point and expandsas wind shufflesover bodies, seashoist your sailsand I'll throw this oneoverthe night can have itnowhear the waveshow they seem satisfiedwith their…

Nineveh

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My heart was a puzzle completely incomplete, until I learned of love in your embrace.

Autumn

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I have never known how gold this time of year, With its palladium arcade, was, of the trees That do not sense the pleasure of their silence; Trees are egalitarian, they do not speak But concourse among themselves, consent to join us At this moment breathing…

Halitosis

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I laughed hysterically at Austin Powers.

Everybody Was a Virgin Once

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Most women simply don’t want damaged goods. That’s a fact I’ve been brought face to face with throughout my life. It's something you can continue crushing your brains against, like an impossibly high hurdle. At first you take the damage without unde

Carmen Scarpino, Pioneering Wise Guy, Dead at 78

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Breasts were developed after World War II, the result of improved nutrition and the additional muscle mass that “Rosie the Riveter”-types acquired through manual labor in jobs that males abandoned to join the war effort.

ExsanguiNations

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leaches fatten-up

When Mistakes Are Made

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He also looked at the tv with a detachment he sensed was dangerous and the sensation scared him so he ran into the kitchen and felt ashamed alone in the hot room and trembled.

The 0th Parallel

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These are the days you wish would never end.

My Flying Debris

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a book of 5 poem-like things I made out of silly string and shot your way when you weren't exactly looking "..kisses are a far better fate/than wisdom."--E.E.CummingsContents:1.The Day's Thin Blue Swim-Suit2. The One Who Needed Let In Most3. I…

People

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Good kid. Awesome job in big cities. Travels a lot. Enjoys Martinis and G&T. She's a romantic. Spends her time online trolling people into submission. Likes softcore porn. Sets cats on fire. Collects stamps.

Carpe Mentis

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machine utility of thought, intangible aesthetic of sentiment.

It's My Birthday

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and the President didn't call.

Bear Weather

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Man, this bearskin rug was a big, awkward sonofabitch on his back....

Intelligent Design

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Posit butterflies/ as evidence of heavenly design.

Desire

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Dark morning sleet whitecrusts the world once more, shrouds remains of January thaw:

Soulspring, by Norman Klein.

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The call came...

The Oral Tradition

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No preview available due to the brevity of the piece. In fact, this comment itself is longer than the piece.

Famus Peepul

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Famus Peepul Ellen and her boy, Larson, were on the second floor of The Monsters restaurant, searching for the fortuneteller. Larson had decided her signature was a necessary addition to his autograph book. He hadn't asked for her autograph…

An Alphabet

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A daydreams about a woman whose name he’s forgotten next to B, who’s been drunk since afternoon.

The Whole Deal with the 'Willamette's Weak-Links'

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[My baloney has a first name: it's Oh, Ess, Cee, Ay -- shit! I forget the rest! Can we start over?]

And You--And You--And You

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“Good to see you, old man,” Greg said. He was like that, an investment banker, a latter-day Tom Buchanan without the polo ponies, self-consciously fusty.

Counterproductive

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A fat kid running; the sounds of an ice-cream truck —counterproductive.

The Fall

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Tuesday is trash day.