Most read stories

Bees in the Eaves

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We write in darkness. We love in alleys. We breathe into beige paper bags. Anything to mollify the confusion. Anything to simplify the math.

12:00 Somewhere

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"Time really flies.” “I thought that was only when you were having fun,” he said. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Wind Bag

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Last night I decided to go through my bag of wind and sort things out. I'm a hoarder, and wind is no exception. I collect winds. I found two siroccos, five simooms, three foehns, eight Chinooks, ninety gales, thirty zephyrs, two nor'westers, a monsoon, a…

The Things I've Lost

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I might have avoided all of this trouble if. . .

Shovel

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each vertebra is a golden cavalier, brave in upright vigilance; stoic heroes.

our bodies were melting into each other

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I had a dream about you once. I don't know if I told you about it already or not. (If I did, I apologize.) I'm never quite sure who you're writing about in some of your stories (maybe a composite of everyone?) but I did hold you one more time. In my dream

Interlude in Trader Joe's Parking Lot

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I'm pulled in by the music like a rogue wave and he has no idea I'm drowning...

Barnegat Bay

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I whispered, “I love you” and then, “Goodbye”

DENSITY

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There were more of us before, laying in a puddle cuddling on the floor with heads tucked into the crooks of arms where light scattered their crowns in the morning and no machine exists for me to use trying to find that morning again. Carl could go off the side of the…

Un(en)titled

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Our trouble decided when the CUNY PhD student, a poet, cried out, “Racination!” during discussion of my poem.

Great Gatsby Roulette

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It was May of my senior year in college. Everybody was coasting, knowing what they were going to be doing the next year, or that they’d be doing nothing. Except for one guy, Tom.

Deaf

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box

Above Love

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Love is easy. Lazy. Fickle.

Henry's Night

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Henry recognized the shoes. “There’s a little vampire came in with those on, but I last saw her over by the juice bar.” He couldn’t be bothered with Arthur’s “sections.” The club wasn’t that big that it had to be defined by sections.

No Lions or Tigers, Thank Goodness

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I scrambled back a bit and found my feet after untangling them from my trekking poles. Really should have dropped those when this all started. The bear lunged at me with his teeth and I just barely dodged to the left to avoid getting something bitten of

Moai

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Rain and wind and the pecking of birds

Precipitants

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we’ll never win/ the ongoing battle with dirt.

Rejection Isn’t Always Everything It’s Racked Up To Be

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I was so messed up when you left me, and I admit I went around searching the faces of the crowd for the man who filled your womb.

Savings Bonds

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"May I help you?" She was beautiful.

My Gall Bladder is Really Warm Today

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The English phrase "Nice to see you" translates into "My gall bladder is really warm today" in Berik, a language of New Guinea. What Language Is, John McWhorter

Three Winter Sketches in Honor of the Vernal Equinox

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an almost perfectly symmetrical/ Cheshire grin of a moon tonight/ above the iced roof of the house

But You Said

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A decade, at minimum, was how long their notes had transpired.Still, they all knew how it would end.

Shiny Dime

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I saw the shiny dime . . . .

Fibers(next:our world without ice caps/yipes!)

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The light they love to hate so much is always pulsating within each life; the unbelievable color sword of what happens next when any two people find each other in their hearts and all pretense is somehow gone, for at…

Talking Balls and Strikes

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I don’t see the problem. In the country I come from, language is the best part of the game.

BEFORE WINTER

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The night before, his dad had stumbled in drunk and beat his mother. John had covered his ears with his pillow to block out their screams.

Out of the Woods

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No, your clever costume won’t protect you.

The Roman Twin

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Reverend Peter Roman could stand it no more. He stopped his speech. He felt a fire burning through him, a hatred for humanity and all the weaknesses of beings not perfect before God. He stood a long while, staring at the congregation. Then, he slowly spok

Selfgod

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Loving himself. Loved by no one. Loving no one.

Preacher Alphonse Jicklo

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Samson was also somewhat in hopes that his son Jason would become engaged in this minor capitalist enterprise and 'turned around' in his life.