Most read stories

Blocked - A Facebook Tale

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In the LOL playground environment of Facebook, one man's world is turned upside down when a new female friend suddenly blocks him from any further communication.From Chap.1: "I kept thinking there was something familiar about you, and now I remember."

His Days

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I thought to tell him I do not love raspberries, but blueberries, but he did not attend to the things I loved.

Finnegan teoriza la practica de cuerdas

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Canta el Hombre...canta una canción que guarda una llamada. Está invitando a Dios a venir. Mas cuando canta una canción que guarda el recuerdo de un camino hacia una casa sin muros ni cercado, cuando cada vibración actúa como un minúsculo paso hacia ese hogar sin…

Angels

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Not everybody sees Father. Not Mom, not Dad, not even my little brother, Andre, and he see lots of things. Me, I need to.

Ghost

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You want to be there, but not noticed. Alive, but not too alive. Because that's how you feel every day. Like an apology with legs.

Summertime

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

Automatic Typewriter

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Rowan’s arm burned and throbbed like the center of a neutron star as it went critical for minutes turned inside-out like hours. Standing in a wall, then huddled underneath the couch, she danced around the rim of consciousness, ripping at the seams of her

Tree Voices (revised)

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Shhhhhhhh...

The Way Home

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I’m in the Grand Central Station bar-- the one at the top of the stairs-- waiting for my husband to enter so I can watch him. The bar is crowded, everyone getting in that last beer before heading back to whiney children and tired spouses.

Ghost writing

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'This dude’s whole life must be in this book. It’s like, a man diary.' The thought makes her laugh.

1998, What I Wanted

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What I wanted was long-in-the-sheets sex...

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.

The Ex-Boyfriend Checks in on Saturday Night by Cell Phone

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(originally appeared in Lit Up)http://litupmagazine.wordpress.com/poetry/rusty-barnes/Remind me never to call youagain after you get home late,for the familiar fear of the deadbolt noise,the shifty creak of your linoleum floor,the way you throw your jacket overthe sofa and…

The Night We Saw Shehenshah

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

Coffee

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I hate walking into restaurants and cafes by myself to meet someone. I always feel awkward, as if no one will claim me. I'm hanging on the threshold now for an agonizing few moments scanning the room until I see my friend.“Hi!” she says, waving her cup at…

Nunc Stans

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I missed the cadence and remembered the verse too late. Now, that place where everything comes together is a first taste of things that have somehow become slightly bitter, and I was choking on it.

Killing Noise

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I ate a novel. I digested a film reel. I vomited poetry.

Moving On

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When we say "Nanoism is looking for twitter-fiction serials for its current contest," this is one example of what we mean.

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

Children are always beautiful

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“Your children are beautiful,” she said, handing back his wallet after removing several bills. Her mouth was fringed by bitten-off melon lipstick, a calm kind of mad. She told him to call her Sally, “like the song McCartney rips his lungs on.” She…

Good Country. People.

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Initially, she had no hopes about his impending arrival, scrawny as he was, until realizing that, because he was a boy, because he was new around here, he might want to wrestle.

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…

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.

The New World Act

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It was said that in order to decrease population— and thus poverty, crime and the growing uneducated workforce in Etherage, New World— they needed to limit, if not abolish, the Social Reform Act of 2013 that provided government assistance and aid to famil

My Shasta Daisy

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I lay on grass warmed by the sun Somehow the breeze finds Its way between my toes I gaze at your beauty Standing alone in between Blades of green grass Is Shasta My Daisy I watch you dance As the wind teases and blows I watch you stand tall …

55 words

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The patient people who work with the insane are not my kind of people. They are too entertained by the oddness of the inmates and act with a superior sense. I, on the other hand, am odd myself, searching for adherents to my view. The inmates knew me as such and agreed…

Memory Freeze

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When the snow reached the windowsills I was no longer a virgin.

Strings

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The field opens up to us like something born.

At A Loss

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“We need to figure out dad’s funeral arrangements.” Jack’s voice was monotone, as if it wasn’t sure whether it really existed. He paused for a moment; it lasted either a split second or a day. He couldn’t tell.

Dream of Burying My Grandmother Who Has No Grave

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We buried her upright, in the stance of warriors.