Most read stories

Hype and Melancholy

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Sonia banks on hidden things in the minds of other people, whereas I bank on what I know.

His Bus

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He'd always considered it his bus.

Summer, finito

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one season slips into another

Sundays

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Sundays I drive her to the cemetery to visit her husband of fifty years. I've had her for two, and when I tell her I love her as much as he did, she laughs. I have to hold her elbow and help her over the bumpy grass. Today it's raining and we brought just one umbrella, so…

Oh Captain, Good Captain: Part I

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I once knew a sailor...

Bean Bag Chair

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Up to the loft we went, shedding clothes all the way. No one is home, but the place smells like the fresh cookies my mom had made before she left. It's dark and my lips hit his…

Five Million Yen: Chapter 36

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Ben panicked momentarily. Which passport?

April

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Well, hello hunger: what a sweet surprise.

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

The instruments

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TromboneA trombone blusters his waythrough the bright restaurant,demanding to see the chef.He's furious;the prawns have given himsplitnotes.ViolinsFour violins wait for a bus in the rain.The pervading atmosphere of melancholymakes their plaintive scrapings redundant.AxeThe…

The Grand Inn

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I saw blood. The walls of the bar were completely covered in red shag carpeting. Had I been thrown back in time to the Seventies? It felt as if I had entered Hell itself. No, this was not Hell. This was the Aryan-Brotherhood's version of the movie Shaft. I…

PTSD

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the queue for hell

The Last Days of Summer

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Their laughter is of a tiny world that knows nothing of taxes or lost loves, or news reports of flag-draped coffins filled with limbs.

Mechanics

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Seems I was in the wrong place, wrong time.

here, winter

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a day so brittle

A Writer Abroad

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Here’s an obvious fact: I live in Germany, but don’t speak much German. Okay, I speak very little German. Truth be told, hardly any.

My Stigmata

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“Don’t you think you should tie a tourniquet or something?” she asked as I bled profusely from the points where Jesus was wounded during his crucifixion.

Weld (St. Petersburg Blues)

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There's one graveyard for the part-timers and another for the full-timers. Ours is a little nicer, but we're still all going to hell. Do you remember St. Petersburg? No, you're memory's not that good.

Urban Skunks

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

when you're not here, your feeling is

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never have i wanted/ to stay in one place long,/ flight inspired to escape/ existential ennui--

in the sun

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an artist sits in the sun moving fingers through long hair

Outré Souls (WIP)

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When the lore of the land could no longer hold the minds of men, they turned their eyes to places where they expected to find no other gaze.

Carmen Rental

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But in 1991 Carmen developed a heroin habit and was forced to sell her powder blue, convertible Mercedes 500SL...

Confidence

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one day the words will form an order, one day the words will make a rhyme, one day the words will make a meaning

In Season

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He saw in her something fierce and wild and gently led her to his open palm...

Inconvenient Weather

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With the sudden thrust// of April green, we can forget/ our drought continues.

WE TURNED THE SAFETY OFF

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It’s not like I could tell anyone. I hum a song my mother sang to me as a child. A dressed-up soprano to calm the tail I’ve grown.

Philip and Gene

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Our lives are lived backward in memory...

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…

The Glass Bowl

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I caught a fragment of a charged argument as I passed them. The young man said, “Well, I am talking about love.” And the young woman with equal volume checkmated with, “Well, I am talking about money.” Though their lives were none of my business, this exc