Most read stories

Never Catch Me Alive

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We walk with our heads down, maybe 15 of us, moving under a sun that has grown to encompass everything. Everything is in hues of orange and red like a bloody eyeball on fire.

A Noir Celebration

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A kind of sucking darkness into A kind of noir celebration of despair

The New Poetry

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

In Dubai III

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The boy in the elevator with round glasses, / who carried a newly-purchased broom, / was tall and burdened with clothes

Old Beat-Up Trunk (containing a History of Forgotten Paintings)

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The world can still be viewed as a honey drop of sparkling rain, but not all washed up tears can be revealed as such. The stories swirling inside are constantly shifting their own gears, searching for the lost highway, and sometimes…

Not Death but Decrepitude

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A bedridden ward of the state,/ warehoused in a nursing home,/ unable to drive to the liquor store/ for whiskey and cigarettes,

First Things Go First And End Up Being Last (the Big Enough Picture)

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I don't have to show you how to fly. I don't even know who you are still possibly trying to be in this crazy grounded world. But the words make us family. I can't help that or what you might do with that public tweet tweet…

Convalescent

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that was one ending

The Cheerleader

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He sat behind her in Honors English, each day studying everything about her.......

Skunks

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I tell people that we leave out food for the creatures to appease the skunk gods.

black

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my soul is black and it's deep like heartbreak and heavy as stone and as thick as ink and it is pressing on top of me like last nights one night stand like dead weight so that I can't lift my arms or spread my legs it feels like I am walking through mud but it's…

Bitter About Pay, Poet Laureate Strikes Catty Tone

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Duffy struck an adversarial tone from the outset, offering up a first poem about improper expenses submitted by members of Parliament that ruffled feathers across party lines.

Paul Steven Stone Goes Topless

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Breaking News: Noted local writer and very minor celebrity Paul Steven Stone joined a growing list of talentless wannabes to bare skin and a hint of nipple in a shameless attempt to draw attention to his current blog posting. When asked how far he would g

Beggars Banquet

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When I was a boy and just out of seminary school, I went to a Doors concert and heard Jim Morrison sing his song ‘Soft Parade’ – it changed my life.

A Winter Gift

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As we follow the trail and things snap beneath our feet, I tell myself that the snapped things take pleasure, find purpose even, in the sounds they make with my soles.

Initial doubts

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"Well, you certainly can't be marrying him then .. "

PTSD

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the queue for hell

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…

5th and Washington

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“This horrible street. I hate this neighborhood,” she cursed.

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

Our Date Was Better In Reverse

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I felt my words reach out and try to grab him by the heart. They missed.

remembering

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I remembered because the man took us to see the horses. I didn't see something that set off a series of memories. I only saw the stables and the moon sitting pensively below the firmament. I looked at these and there was spaciousness between the moon and the stables and…

His Bus

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He'd always considered it his bus.

Summer, finito

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one season slips into another

Morning Night (1)

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Sunday Night She wasn't hungry, hadn't eaten for days, wouldn't even touch the food I took time off my fuckin' schedule to bring her myself. I walked through puddles of dirt and dog shit, I did. By the time she opened the door after four knocks, I was drenched,…

The Busy World is Perfectly Happy

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to continue to crumble its way through another grinding cycle of slowly walking to the edge of the universe ancient treelike beings, like gentle ghost buffalo, and our own thundering buildings by the hundreds of thousands, …

The Bad Bed, 2011

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Im in bed. Bed. I look at the word bed written on the screen. Bed. It looks like bad but not quite. Bed-Bad. Bad-Bed. I have a bad bed. Lets say my bed is bad. It is a bed to the extent that it is bad. It is not good, it is bad. It is a bad bed.

Starlight Standup

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They wink at me as if to share/ a cosmic joke whose punch line’s still/ a couple dozen light years out

A Rave for "How the Sixties Ended"

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"At a bare minimum it deserves to be a major cult hit."

Smack

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They shoot up through the soles of their feet once the veins in their arms are all used up. They shoot up in their necks like the cows on the African Savannah