Most read stories

Don't Forgive Me

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of anything if that's the way you feel your love must go down, off its last nut before the big victimizing crash of the end of days and flowers. But watch out for thosethorn bushes that grow from forgotten holes in the ground.…

Love of a Lifetime

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Love is easy when all is going well, but it is one of life’s profound, humbling lessons that few people love you enough to wipe your butt.

The Walk of Shame

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There it was One abandoned high heel shoe on the sidewalk Could have been Some kind of robbery Though Maybe it was just The beginning of the Walk of shame

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.

Disposable Pleasures

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

Five Million Yen: Chapter 63

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Gringovitch sat on the big leather chair in Olivia’s suite. Before him on a coffee table were the nude sketches he’d made of her earlier that day.

A Noir Celebration

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

Island Numbers

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an island hidden in the sound holds treasure

Five Acts

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The television was playing reruns of Mr. Ed, but it was hard to hear because of the flock of birds in the palm tree. I’d sometimes imagined the birds coming through the window, a swarming of pink cotton mouths, mawing everything in sight.

EyeSeaEwe

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I C U: …

only connect

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lift my love and be lifted

Music

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Five micros

Puzzle Pieces

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temporary objects of desire

The Fourth Prague Defenestration: 1

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Defenestration - the act of throwing someone out of a window. I went to Prague recently to visit my family’s castle, which is called Krivoklat. I’m not even going to attempt to explain to you how to pronounce that. It’s outside Prague, about an hour t

ROMANCE

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In the neon light and barroom shadows,

Five Million Yen: Chapter 13

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-That’s more like it. He released Ben and holstered his gun under his leather jacket.

The Days, the Weeks

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Next morning the thought crosses my mind of snapping Mom’s neck, making sure she’s dead, and then running down to the sea to drown myself.

Proud Mary

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Mary had no shoes. She told me they were stolen by someone at the shelter and I believed her because she stood there outside the Arlington T stop in a pair of tube socks. She told me she wasn't asking for money. She told me the shelter was serving seafood today so her…

I Wonder

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I wonder what it would be like to dog-paddle in the middle of the ocean. I wonder how Jean Auguste Ingres got the flesh tones for “Odalisque.” I wonder if bees have dreams.

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.

I Don't Know Why People Still Read These Things

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POETRY IS DEGENERACY / IS A DISGUSTING HABIT

Finite

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This was not a good sign, comforting gestures from strangers were bad omens.

leyh (they say)

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and then he began to sing, along with the ghostly villagers

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.

To The Guy Who Sat Next To Me On The Flight Home From Amsterdam

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I guess you felt more comfortable holding your Moby Dick

Last Stop To Dream

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This time is different. The dream doesn’t continue with endless walking.

Ten Books That Have Stuck with Me Off the Top of My Head as I Make Them Up, #1

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“Miss Brown had spent the morning (was it just this morning? Or another?) purchasing parsnips and leafy green vegetables from the local grocers, when she was overcome by a wave of nausea. The world went black and she awoke in a windowless, doorless room.

the spirit of the dead watching. Gauguin

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Listening too much to the night, with its whistles, bright lights of luminescent bursts like leaves on fire, or the raised ear of a cow in the purple mist, or the curled tail of a pig foraging in the night.

Wordswhisperlove

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His eyes begin to glisten like hot green wax pooling around the wick of a pretty little candle.

Five

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"It all began with a painting," I said. "Mostly blue. Acrylic. Naturalistic in a modern sense. She was stylized but recognizable, and her breasts were exposed. Everyone could see her disordered skirt. The painter was a fan of Herrick.