Most read stories

only connect

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lift my love and be lifted

The Thing on Marlow Street

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After all, if she could get through World War II with no more than a couple of letters and numbers on her arm, she could, sure as hell, get through this.

An Interview With Pere Ubu

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Performed October 21-22, Gallery 263, Cambridge, Mass. Kathy-Ann Hart, the Hostess; Ryan Wenke, Ubu; Tyler Catanella, Alfred Jarry; the author--technician.

Sisters

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Jo was tailored, Amy was frivolous with ribbons and bows, Meg was plain and sensible; and Beth, who was ill and had no costume changes, wore the same nightgown throughout the dress-up session.

The Cheerleader

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

On A Carport in Bethlehem

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I can hear soft rain

A Rave for "How the Sixties Ended"

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

The Tall Man’s Secret

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I turn the corner and come face to face with Ed, who's stark naked at the kitchen sink. He chugs a glass of hot tap water from a measuring cup and belches loudly. “Good morning,” he says, as he pisses in the sink. “I drink 6 cups of hot tap…

The Duke of Travel

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

Last Stop To Dream

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

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 …

Shuffle

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Something is clearly wrong with them and we're supposed to socialize them.

Once I get through this

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Once I get through this I'm going to start: daily yoga stretches; walking the dog all the way to the waterfall every morning; tossing out, unread, Saturday's ads so I don't think about going into Walmart to buy Stack-A-Shelves (assembly required). Hey, even…

His Bus

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He'd always considered it his bus.

Untitled

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our cogs winding and whirring

Orslan

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After going to the garage and moving at least 4000 boxes of junk we found the coat rack. We wrestled it up the stairs to my room. I wasn't much help, but Dad was cool about it. I think he was just happy I liked the suit.

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…

President Liz

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I fancy myself a spy. Unofficial official of the H. O. A. Super secret free agent agent of the Glenwood Homeowner's Association. Even the board is unaware of the work I do in their name, without the faintest utterance of their name. Only the highest of the high, the…

Bitter the Sun When It Is in Hades

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Bitter the sun when it is in Hades High fans meaning nothing keep the heat down but the nitre keeps burning So glows the gloss and high sheen on the skin Foreheads exhibit thought though the eyes are crossed and at night, butterflies i

August, now and after

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I'll see her this fall, a redhead in camo

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

fields of gold

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The son stood on the porch with his grip packed. "I'm off to mine me a fortune a gold, Daddy." "Boy, there's a fortune in gold right here," said the father, indicating the ripe wheat, glowing in early morning sun. The kid slumped. "Pop, you turn over a rock there,…

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.

ROMANCE

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In the neon light and barroom shadows,

I Must Want it. No, I Must Need It.

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She rubs her head into mine...

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

Dixon Ticonderoga - 2 5/10 medium

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gotta love a pencil

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.

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.