Most read stories

we used to drop her off along the way

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We do it all the time...

The Business of Shadows

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The flowerpots across the street from Frank’s room at the Place d’Armes Hotel never appeared parched by the late August sun.

twitter quitter

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you can reach me at hashtag this!

When Will the Poetic Violence End?

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Some corners of the world seem to be consigned to an eternal hell of never-ending strife. The Middle East; Northern Ireland; the faculty lounge at Oxford University.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 44

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The butterscotch on that painting makes me want to lick the canvas.

In Memoriam

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One by one, cars filed into the cemetery, pelted by the summer rain under a gun-metal sky. The procession moved slowly, a series of brake lights and headlights, too close together, too far apart; there were sedans and SUVs, mini-vans and pick-up trucks, shiny new vehicles…

Weeks

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She was wearing a black tank top and jeans, standing in the shade. Why was she there again? The camera hanging around her wrist answered her question. Right, he had called. He had asked if she could take picture for him and his…

The Fourth Prague Defenestration: 5

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Vladimir walked down the little path next to the creek with us. I stopped along the way and picked off a sliver of some of the bedrock that was sticking out alongside the narrow path, to take home with me as a souvenir of my family castle, just to be ab

Decided

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Millicent asked me to stop over at her place for coffee after work because we needed to talk. While pouring, she said she was torn about telling me what her father used to do to her when her mom was not around, but she thought I needed to know how twisted her life was…

DOMA Do-Do

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His smartphone rang. A picture came up of him kissing the blonde.

All you need is a friend

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So, before he could brew with the crew, God decided to make one last trip to Earth, drawn by nostalgia and the prospect of watching a football World Cup from the stands. That is where He met Mini.

In the Sequence of Events

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Eroica sprawled among/ the horns and violins

you are the stem that rises

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In my dream I am the showy leaf, and you are the stem, and you are the strength. I am the leaf turning colors, my face flushed, the fine hair at my neck, and there is the deep carnal twisting around your stem that sends me floating to the ceiling over a

Fur licking City Cats

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Howling, prowling, yowling Baby Dykes, stalkin' chicks, throwin' fits, takin' hits! A thousand thigh divin', rosebud nipped, fur licking dancin' cats, (Claws in, claws out! Yes!) sniffin' that cradle of love.

Inner Demons

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Every soul has a shadow.Last night, I saw mine. I saw greed,with his sticky, gnarled fingers,seizing the tablecloth of a grand feast,indifferent(or conveniently oblivious)to his starving loved ones. I saw ingratitude,with her proud, scornful …

Her Smile

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The white and yellow are sublime and desperately powerful, like angry screaming over tears and through laughter or hatred. Maybe the words are about crying or laughing, but the expressions are altogether impenetrable and distant. The jokes told behind the teeth and through…

...until love lasts.

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She didn't know why she thought the ring wouldn't fit her finger, but it slid on easily and effortlessly, coming to rest in the old familiar place it always had, the groove that had worn in her finger after seven years of wearing it. She hadn't worn it in a few months,…

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

One Day I Will

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Gotta ask myself what I’m doing here. What keeps me tied. Caged. What is it?

This Is How Far It Is

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How long has this been going on? the admitting nurse asks.

A Scriptwriter's Story

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He paid the price for being a dick when he tried to write. The Muse did not care for violent behavior.

War Stories

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I told about the time during the early part of WW II when I shook hands with a member of the Flying Tigers. He was home on leave, and he stopped by to see my dad, who had been his scout master.

Denis Johnson

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How strangely perfect it is To see this man memorializedAn author, so I'll always cheerThough I haven't yet read his worksA secret perhaps best keptThe shame of an English major, the shame of a friendHow strangely perfect it is To read even the names paying…

DIVINE EROS

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I drink the funeral in a dream. I give satisfaction in voice overs.

and I used to sing, too, after sex

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Females exuding from the genitals, giving life meaning, shape, cleanness of line, purity of spirit. They may form man as the honey moans out its salt song, solitary, its epic shout of joy, the sweet science of the human form. Then to give back in re

Punkin Head

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The old neighborhood, long paling in the shadow of greater Los Angeles, was reduced to two blocks in length and occupied only one side of Figueroa. It was the crumbling bastian of homes whose architecture remembered yet street-car bells clanging, watermelon farms and…

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.5 - c.1

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Azure analyzed her surroundings. There were potted plants along the walls. It reminded her of the dormitories at Memorial Academy. Each room had a number.

The Forest is Falling

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another paper saving 55er

The Jade Dragon

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FUN MOVIE TRAILER: 41 members of my family participated in a movie I co-wrote and shot with my wife. Have a look!:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wA7k2r81iXEHere's the 64 minute film-noir-style…

Struggle for Life

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7.53Another morning ritual. Trying to fill the loose ends of time in the early morning is a task.7.54I've done about everything, too early to work and too late to go back to sleep. 7.55Trying to avoid the nausea of life at all cost. My mind is a snakepit, filled with…