Most read stories

Seriously?

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Did you really think you were going to cure cancer with that poem?

Typing Right On Fictionaut, Take 1

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We went driving on Sundays.

Like There Was No Tomorrow

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And there on the street Were a bunch of frantic pigeons Picking over some discarded Chicken bones I mean they were really Going to town on them You know, frantic Like there was no tomorrow And then I saw it A real sign of progress

Not Even

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That’s not just a trinket on her finger, that’s a rock, a fortress, a castle. No one can scale those walls except Joe Sixpack, slumped beside her at the airport. They’re not a match. I give it 5 years, max. Not even. Joe

The Semaphore of Civilization

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We're alone and besieged / by badness.

Dialysis

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On the days I wasn’t there, my insides felt like paper-mâché.

Writing 101

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looked briefly – glanced shouted loudly – yelled fell down – fell

Chapel of a Latter Day Agoraphobic

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The thrum and the thrust// have beaten conviviality out of me.

Puzzle Pieces

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temporary objects of desire

Me and Jim the Wonder Dog

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“Lassie was a hack,” Jim the Wonder Dog says as he looks out over fields of soybeans. “She couldn’t act her way out of a 25 pound bag of Purina Dog Chow."

Cake

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There I saw a man Lowering his head Close to the plate And just wolfing down His cake And that was all he ate It was like Solace He was enjoying it So much

Follow My Lead

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I ran down the list of reasons she might be calling. She could be bankrupt, having a mid-life crisis, or maybe had a terminal illness. Either way I was clueless, as I had absolutely no emotional bond with the woman I came out of.

...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,…

Salt and Light

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As clever as clean bed sheets

War ; a fragment

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Lela, my grandmother.

Check

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My toes curled together under the pathetic rag of a bedsheet, the frost creeping in through the two-inch deformity of the window on the left wall. I was tempted to sneak a glance at them to insure that they weren't black, but then decided that I'd…

Waiting, Waiting

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The fear you represent is a real drag. That's all there is to say. But like every other house on the block I have spiders in the basement who are waiting to be brought up into the golden light. These creatures only want to be good at being alive. Instead they are given…

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.

Filtering Grace

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...She was my first, my only, she broke me in then brought me down. Alone now, I cycle through hundreds of variations of her image like a flip book narrating some abstract story. That’s all she is now to me, an incoherent melange of tints, saturations, an

DIVINE EROS

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

Blank Checks

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Then he said something that really made sense, said he kept a blank check in his back pocket...

gravelortian part 5

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

Rabbit Trail

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Sorrow fences with fear and questions

Bands, Again?

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Monkey Business Low Ceiling Wagging Tongues Guest Sweet Murphy’s Law Kinda Hot Stopit! Freedom Ring Lumpy Oatmeal Better Not Butter Up Grumpy Umpire

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.

My Resolutions for 2015

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The only resolution I ever kept was when I said I wasn't going to create any more resolutions, and now I'm going to break that one.

Improvisation on a few lines by Mark Strand

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I am tripping on poetry. Purple ink drips from my eyes like ergot of rye.

Tincture Shunt Lunch Box

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Most people don't understand what it's like being a pop idol. I am not most people. I am Tincture Shunt, and here I present you with my trajectory to stardom, in case you want to copy it for your own personal use. Unfortunately (for…

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.

Shirley Ave.

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What can I offer you, White Moon?This full night lays black before your stoic assent—and Ibreathe my final breath, frantic—for you. I wait, damned,a bestial lover in the broken dark of the variety market, whisperinga word of forgiveness to an empty window. I…