Most read stories

Philip and Gene

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Our lives are lived backward in memory...

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.

A Loser, Either Way

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Although I'm twenty years older than her, my girlfriend has called me "jailbait" for the past year and a half because she says the only way to stop having to share me is to kill my wife..

The Chair

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His thoughts drifted to when he was a kid, to the monthly trip to the barber.

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 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…

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.

Mechanics

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Seems I was in the wrong place, wrong time.

Last Stop To Dream

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

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.

And So Wit Begins...

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My writing career began with sitting around the tree eating Christmas presents.

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.

in the sun

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an artist sits in the sun moving fingers through long hair

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.

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…

In Season

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

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

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 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.

Urban Skunks

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

Nothing to Worry About

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The boss has a serious problem--he's too nice for his own good.

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--

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…

Oh Captain, Good Captain: Part I

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I once knew a sailor...

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 Cheerleader

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

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.

The Night Madison Brooke Burned Alive

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She told me it had been there since she was a kid, this large black spot like a blimp floating from her right arm up to the tip of her neck. She had really pale skin so she kinda looked like a cow strutting down the street.

PTSD

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the queue for hell