Most read stories

Urban Skunks

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Urban skunks want to visit your neighborhood and be bold in your neighborhood.

Burial of the Dead

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No canopic jars and fine Egyptian cotton.

Attraction and the Forge of God

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Being burned with a branding iron really hurts. Everyone must have voted for the Forge because next thing I knew there was only God on TV

Five Million Yen: Chapter 69

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The Gringovitch family was gathered in the lobby of the hotel. The boys sat on the floor using their packs as back supports. Francesca Gringovitch sat on a chair with the remaining luggage in front of her.

Always nervous

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and still every time I walked up there - so it can't be the cycling - I was nervous I would do it wrong

ALL SMOKE RISES. The story of Lilly and her need for MILK-BLOOD

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Lilly was anything but a white flower. Her skin had been blackened and burnt. Charred legs and arms stuck out like tiny tree limbs, the knuckles on her fingers barely covered by skin. The child’s face is frozen in the beginnings of a scream. She seems anc

Land Fill at Morning

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The gulls/ have somehow mastered the art// of avoiding the nooses of six-pack/ plastic rings

Damien Hirst Burger

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the Tate Modern is like a dungeon!

Lilies

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Every spring, outside on the back deck, my mother and I have the same talk about how time flies, and she always waves her hand in the air as if swatting at a fly, but there's never anything there. She thinks the lilies will live all summer spread like a rainbow,…

Backhand

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"You are stuck in the past like the jiggling leather of that wrestler's skin."

SHADOW TREASURES

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Vikki respond, "Say big guy, you eat pussy?" The Mohawk flustered. "Uh!?...Yeah...sure." Vikki snickered, "Great. We got something in common. So do I."

The Search for Pastina Continues

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To assist you in recalling some of Episode One of - "A Poem by Jasmine Coriander-Semolina": My head lifted up slowly as I looked up through a gaussian blur of fragrant incense smoke and saw she was crying. She whispered that her daughter, Pastina, was last…

The Duke of Travel

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...he had that same grin, better than a racy French picture.

Easter

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This was how he circumnavigated people, bartering like a viking setting prices on the edge of an ax-blade.

Fernando

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“It's not him,” Kelly says. “I think it might be,” says her Mom. The three of us are sitting on the long sofa facing the wall which is one …

How To Dismantle A Bell

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Pictures of war correspondents from The Tribune, and colonial photographs in a fruit crate

The Bridge

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And the urban sprawl doesn’t hesitate. All around me, I taste the aftermath of bricks, dust and dirt, freshly laid concrete slabs.

Micromanaged Truth

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Let your father stay through that dinner when his mistress needed him, while your mother was on the verge.

Heavy Weather

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The blue of the sky pierced her heart. She patted her lips with her tongue and turned to him. “We have to talk.”

Fixing the RED Wagon

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I had put the child's wagon, which had been red once, back together again. “Honey”, I said, “I found out the garbagemen will pick up concrete this month.” So, I put…

Pharaoh's Revenge

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The first intimation that something was afoul was when his computer crashed.

The New Poetry

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The new poetry comes in shining metal boxes covered in glass so you can peer in.

Almost Regrettably Useless Advice

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This world is always at least as strange as it seems, but usually far more strange, so many non-repeatable phenomena . . . .

Philip and Gene

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Our lives are lived backward in memory...

Their Day

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The lace fell through the fingers, wrinkled and nimble they had become too used to avoiding the finite objects in life which needed attention. The white cotton sat loosely on her shoulders, the collar exposed the skin which had become dry and her shoulder

Condos Dumping Lawyers for Paramilitary Death Squads

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“Honorable condominium association members,” the leader begins. “I apologize for not having a PowerPoint slide show tonight, but me and my muchachos travel light.”

Going on Account

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I study the architecture of hunger. I listen to intuitions. I have a map of heaven and a map of hell and they are the same map.

Pretend Friend

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no rule says an imaginary friend has to be a good one

Free As A Bird

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The cell was crowded, barely enough room to swing a cat.

In The Place Between

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We played and had joy. As the seasons changed in that peripheral world, we did not feel it. We only saw the snow a bit, only felt the wind a bit, we were not really in it. We still kept ourselves busy. There was something that I did begin to notice. I cou