Most read stories

Margaret & Beak Discuss Jazz for The Last Time

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He lit a slim, brown cigarette and drew on it. "But have you heard the flugelhorn? I mean, have you heard a particularly adept flugelhorn?"

Chimera (a wild and unrealistic dream or notion)

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... while I lie, cool as a nectar cream snowball, in my Maggie The Cat slip, painting my toenails a color called Bad Influence

Powdered Sugar on Bare Skin

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At first I thought maybe I was dreaming, or hallucinating from the lack of sleep and a high altitude. I peered out of the small window and thought I saw a man walking stark naked along a path maybe twenty feet from my trailer. He walked briskly into a one

A Wee Noggin - Paddy Whacker's Challenge

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On the eve of celebrating their patron saint at the public house, one of his particularly cabbaged mates was bold enough to ask him about his cranial deformity.

No Pretty Boy

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Janice liked me being in the closet while she brought dudes home from the Mack. We both liked it, but sometimes, sitting on that folding chair for that twenty minutes among her clothes, all perfume-stanky and leather-smell, it felt like the whole world wa

1997: What I Wanted

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If all the world had one neck, I would have clenched my hands around it and squeezed until everything went black.

Before

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The last time they made love she could feel the hint of pain and loss which would become her.

The Alternative Zodiac

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Instead of these gew-gaw ‘signs’ you waffle about, I will give you reality

April, 1956

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I felt/ no need to show what I had made/ to anybody else.

The Strange Edge: Have I Stumbled Upon a New Idear? (Blog)

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Slipstream features strange events in a typical world whereas New Weird features typical events in a strange world.

The Empty City - Chapter 1 - Early Summer

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Every day the trains transported the young and successful and the not so young and less successful who belonged to the five buildings.

Fuck with death....again.

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The grenadier moans in his sleep. He’s making love with a dead brown woman. A small, bone thin woman with heavy milk full breast. A dead child’s milk.

Her father's job

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“We don’t drop litter. Pick it up.”

Ethics

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I was good-looking, marketable and ambitious. And that never hurt anyone cracking it big ...

The Getting of Ignorance

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It was too late to be eponymous. I was happy enough to be an emulator. But even then, my ideas were nothing but re-runs of re-runs. Like a high-school production of Macbeth.

Masdy's Silver

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Cheater was a Goblin. He carried a long knife, not quite a sword, but more than your average pocket blade.

Living Guilt-Free in These United States

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Back when Richard was still skinny and mean, we fought at The Island. He broke a pool stick over my head. I bruised more than his ego. We fought over a woman, as always. We were best friends and that’s what we did. W

Summertime

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“Mescaline occurs naturally in our bodies, you know,” I said.

Strings

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The field opens up to us like something born.

The girl, whose hair was red, green and yellow

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There were trees where I lived and clean pavement

Payout

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In the evidence of broad daylight, in the secrecy of darkness, in drizzling rain that teased the embers, Annabelle worked hard.

Life Before Kant

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I doused back three Buds in the time it took him to detest a variety of subjects including the naivety of quantum physics and pregnant women.

But Not For Me

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So when they shake a finger, when they yell, she remembers Miss Whalen saying, “It’s not for keeps.”

One Day the Caveman Played Guitar

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Others climbed trees for a hopeful sighting.

American Birthdays

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Cherry was America's least favorite pie. Her mother made it every year for her father's birthday because "daddy doesn't like cake." America had to wash the bowls, the wooden spoon, the plates and finally the Pyrex dish. Her brother got to "contribute" by climbing the tree…

Breaking Dawn

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This is where he died, she says to me, and points to the damp pavement. Her hair is wet, and slicked against her neck. The humidity is making everything engulf her. The sleep shorts I bought her last July are loose on her now, but between the rain and

Last Night On Oil Street

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Tomorrow the authority smashes. Tonight we march, splash, carve letters in wet paint from room to room until steel blades bend. The letters will tilt in shadows gliding over the walls to mask our tales born of fractured wrists and the ghosts, our keepers.

Late November

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“I found a recipe on the net and now my hair smells of pumpkin.”

Heartbreak Waiting To Happen

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I should have created a first-date questionnaire heartaches ago.

The Night We Saw Shehenshah

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‘In terms of relationship, I am your Father – my name is the Emperor’.