Most read stories

Anniversary

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He honestly could care less.  We should converse, you and I, he says. All right, she says.  She lays down the baster in her drawn out way, heel to toe on the countertop, one step in a…

For One Group of Boys, Donated Cars Mean a Way Out

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The glamour of living in the Rebuilt Engine Capital of the World is meaningless to the young boys who roam its crowded streets after school, desperately looking for something to take their minds off their homework.

High Fives

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They pull up to the curbside and he jumps out to shake the hands in that familiar men’s grasp/shake they do when saluting each other. If that isn’t his daughter it should be, the one sitting in his car, with her door wide open.

The Last Days of Summer

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Their laughter is of a tiny world that knows nothing of taxes or lost loves, or news reports of flag-draped coffins filled with limbs.

At the Balcony

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I was setting up a mattress and a lamp in the balcony of my house because a boy, G., told me he was coming to fuck me.

things to know about the people parked along the road that runs though Humboldt Park: part 19

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And he was wearing a mask. Gorilla mask over his gorilla face.

Unibrow: A Confessional

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I couldn't think of anything that rhymed with "unibrow" except Tsing Tao, which is a brand of Chinese beer....

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.

During My Daily Commute

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in moving cars i am small; in moving cars i am invisible.

gravelortian part 5

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papa wants to dance - the future is so bright - feel good all the time baby

The Polish Worker

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... and that’s the story of the Polish worker who looks like van Gogh.

amaryllis

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On such warm nights when wet sex happens suddenly, please, remember the amaryllis. How they’ll push up out of the ground in August after the first real heat opens the air. I too was born in such weather. Balmy nights when heat lightning beats in the

The Skill in Gravity

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the ones that have seen the other seasons, let them set up the track

Spiders on the Wall

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Her eyes creaked open in the misty morning sun seeping through my dusty window. From her facial expression, I could tell she thought I was watching her sleep, but really I had just woken up and coincidentally looked over at the exact moment she did. I decided against …

Second Hand

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“Okay, here is a wild idea. Let's each choose outfits from the second hand store for the other to buy and wear to a bar for a drink..." Famous second to last words?

Turning Heads

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Crows cawed, kvetched.

Assiduity Twenty Six

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Uzma and Luv are . . .

Earth Below

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Lover’s leap to a bank of smooth shale/ Where I sat drinking beer that past summer/watching a group of hard shell Baptists/line up to be saved in it’s muddy waters

Five Million Yen: Chapter 17

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-Someone could have boosted this easy as pie, Ben said to himself.

Shot Story

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The earmuffs, a fine pale green, are tilted slightly to the left, threatening to quash her in their magnitude. Her eyes, sharp sparkling blue, focus for a flash, looking for applause or assurance, or perhaps just approval. Safe, behind…

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

Puzzle Pieces

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temporary objects of desire

Anselm Kiefer Painting, 1

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The damaged sky is not more black than your hair, Ashen tonight and floating over the land in blackened Smoke, where the furrows run with milk light Or snow, blue and white, and the world-ash floats. Your patient body sleeps and the white pain

Lake Erie on a Monday Night

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As if I should have expected better of it.

Carpe Diem Blues

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Sing your barrel-chest blues, / Hard young man.

Love Poem

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I need to be not sure

Something Wrong

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Her questions apparently had their desired effect.

Here is the thing. No one knows what it (actually) represents

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beyond knowing that when it hits you, you've been very much run over, and flattened like a stack of cardboard pancakes. I've seen it all before, and it works all right I guess. But my oh my, my, my oh thank you Jesus, to…

The Passing of a Hero

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"...and time came hurtling behind him, gripped his shoulder/ jumped clean over him like a buck goat/ the world aged but he did not/ he spent his afternoons in an old car with fake leather seats/ drank cold beer under the olive trees/ or lay in a hammock/

Disposable Pleasures

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when I take the time/now to remember/ you have become/a thousand page/memory book