Most read stories

Mural, Mosaic, and Satori

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He thought of natural violence that had to do with the wind and the Atlantic Ocean. He thought of the Gulf Stream, that important title, that someone had shown him on a map and explained about in detail.

Ambivalence

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She said it feels wrong. Too wet, she said. I snickered, she smacked.

Assiduity Twenty Six

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Uzma and Luv are . . .

Writing From Paintings (a meditation on the work of artist Michelle Manley)

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Since we are heading past the outskirts, we find ourselves with a hidden reserve of valor and ability. What is this ability? It is the way we look now at strange new clouds menacing and waiting. It is also the way we head forth into them and their environ

The Judge's Wife Part 2

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"Do you kiss all of your models?"

Cat Haikus

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You have more names Than a Spanish grandee. Your lives I’m too envious to count.

No Ideas but in Things?

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Forgive the doctor/ his hypocrisy -

THERE IS NOTHING MORE HONEST THAN PAIN

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My parrot Poe freezes when a crow soars outside the window the same way I do when you approach my door. You come knocking late at night. What do you want this time? I yell. To come in you say, please. Go the fuck away, I respond but you keep…

Turnings

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“Help me,” the man said in his mind. He lay beside the folding camp stool alone in the middle of the woods, in the clearing where he and the dog always rested.

Christian Bell

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Night LifeThen things started getting weird. I could give you a time frame but it was back when times didn't matter really, one hour as good as the next and the minutes used to be minutes not the digital counting that makes this crazy world now spin. Here was…

Five Million Yen: Chapter 52

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—Hey, lover man, where’s my breakfast? said Monique, tousling Ben’s hair.

Johnny Bruzzone: Pool Hustler

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I was a coward and didn’t want to get killed like Heimley. Heimley was a nut at high school. I saw him myself one night put his hand right through the windshield of this car he was working on, along with a monkey wrench. Sure, he was drunk, but th

(2) 77 Words (pcs.)

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The sometimes shiver that arrives from awkward silences and the more often cold that comes from midwestern winters.

Passion

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From words to meaning― how complicated it is.

The Cat Pulls No Sudden Punches

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and springs its ready-made claws into action and takes a soppy chance that things will probably go its feline way today. But you, my friend, must you always throw the testing switch to high voltage on me? Yeah I get that the history teachers…

A Lapse in Concentration

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[...] A crimson post-it note/ illustrates the squiggle of a resting pulse wavering/ near the broken pencil leads and whorls of/soft wood which may be classed as evidence.

November

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You sleep in equative lip biting slumber hugging a pillow you think is someone else.

Amish in the Theater of Lust

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Through the Walmart parking lot they came...

My Own Gun

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“What's a slut?”

The last sunny day. LUST

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I remember.

Thanatos Collective

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the cocksucking of strategic death planning

Octopus

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Sometimes I think there's an octopus in my stomach. In the mornings it stretches and droops its lazy head to one side — It suctions it's tentacles to the walls of my belly and pulls them together forcing me To gag, and vomit what we didn't digest of the…

Slightly Damp Clothes In the Morning

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It begins with his positioning.

A Release of Sorts

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For the new year, I´ve given up palm oil. Made shopping a whole lot harder. Damn orangutans tugging at my conscience.

what time is it really is it?

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. . . the roar of fire speaks lasting heat . . . .

Cannabis Emerges, Rampant

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What the hell is going on out here!? Yelled the man with the shotgun

The Fake Humility of Stars is a Terrible Thing to Waste( in Three Recycled Parts)

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F Bomb I am coming in like a blackbird. Like I'm going to tickle your mud. I am coming in carrying a half-sunk message backward. Is that your lonesome answer? I am coming in to sweep for all saints. 'Course I didn't just wake up…

Scottish Independence

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with peaty aromatics, opened,/ and a welcomed sting, swallowed,

With Respect to a Fellow Poet

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We do not all love each other for the sake of our shared art, apparently.

The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame must burn!

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This is a call to burn down the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame and Museum. It is everything wrong with our culture boiled down to one location. Ground Zero of hypocrisy. The spot where the very spirit of rebellion has been stolen by corporate America.