Most read stories

Fly Fishing For Bats

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then something like a shark gnawing on a harpsichord. Her drum kit apparently is an entire laundromat. A pocketful of marbles spilling in rivulets, down a set of narrow linoleum steps, merrily as two warblers splashing in a birdbath. several octaves below

GENE WILDER

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I saw you hold her as if you were copy writing a ball of yarn

Hyperbolic Doubt - And Wherever After To Discover The Truth Behind That Some Timely And Malignant Demon Bad Luck

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The toilet paper had been the least of the issue. It was just something else for her to yell about. See, what she was really upset about was the bank account. The bank account had been his, then theirs, and now it was his again.

Elk Hunters

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"Damn! All I've got is a hundred dollar bill."

The Bookshelves

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rows and sections of casually arranged selectionswell crafted but haphazardpretty objets d'art randomly placed as cluesto significant life moments and revealing preferencesmy mother was an interior designershe would have clucked her tongueher head cocked to the sideas she…

Beowulf in Hell (in Anglo-Saxon alliterative verse)

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They strung him up,…

Mirage

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the old once new me

I'm Still Here

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During the night and in the fog of halfsleep Ben shifted and felt the weight of Miranda gone from him, the bed empty. In the quiet of the house he thought he heard a footstep and the soft shutting of a door, and as his eyes searched the dark he…

Elemental

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It was in the last expulsion/explosion (theories differ) that we became OneWith. Tsunami. Seism. Zud. All matter cast out outcast came back like a gangster on crack. What did it think it was? Who do we think we are? It thinks we think it thinks…

Eternally Shall Be the Leaves I Rest

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All greatest things are tokens of themselves: They need no tongues to say why they are so, To say why suns surpass historic gulfs Or why the rain sheds more tears than the snow: Yet man must strive to paint what falls beneath The glance…

At the Farrah Fawcett Wing of the Smithsonian

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I hope some of my students will go on to advanced studies in Charlie’s Angelsology, maybe write a master’s thesis like “Kate Jackson: Third Wheel or Brunette Glue That Held the Angels Together?”

Stableford

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Mike Summer's moustache was perfect. Hard bristle and so symmetrical it looked cut to the angles of a military imperative. He was pretty proud of it, thought the team of beaters, who watched him as he sat on the boot ledge of his sage green Mercedes 123 T, combing…

Cannaregio confrontation

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I did as I was told, running barefoot down the bare wooden stairs

Really Beautiful Skank

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She really was a beautiful skankFeral coated and dusted with sugarAn inked up divining rodTelling us on earth what God thinks

running, returning

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The broken car horn wailed for 40 days and 40 nights.

So Played the Pipes in Arras

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After he closed the door, Harry stared at the box for a long time before picking it up. I know what it is and I know what it means. Bloody hell. And at Christmas of all times.

the body that has the heat

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Dream, swan, dream of your woman, whenever you get hold of her. Problem after problem lets up under the grip you have. And conquest without plan is what you’ve added to the world. So, share your songs under wild silk, won’t you? I remember there was hel

BODY OF CHRIST, Chapter One

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The sound wasn’t coming from her dream, it was coming from inside the house. Somewhere outside her bedroom the noise was gaining power. Each pitch climbed higher with the urgency of a smoke alarm. With hands over ears and a hazy brain she got up from her

Boolean Muteness

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I believe in scouring the sea with spears

You Knew It

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was only a small enough matter of time before you started to show up as new words like soft pink clues dropped inside tiny fingernail teacups to find their innermost meaning, then wishes, floating up near the top like…

CHINTZ PICKLE

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What if she doesn't take me seriously? My sweaty testimony wedged tight behind the tragic I used to think was honest? What if, right? What if . . . Isolation Real men feel that, right? They have …

Her Return

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She approached him submissively, face down, eyes hidden by hair that moved with every shift of the current.

After the Hoopla

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It is imperfect,/ eroded by the optics// of light, space/ and orbital mechanics.

Motorized Elderly Armageddon

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Oldies are not goodies.

Whataboutery

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A scene.

The Meaning of Salvation

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I descend to my grave / where I will unbend / until the Coming of Christ

Second Collage

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B developed a thick emulsion that he paints onto the pieces of meat on which he prints photographs.

Round And Round

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"GROW A PAIR AND DRIVE! DRIVE!!"

Acid Flashback #2

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I'm transfixed in Tower Records,all the CD covers dancinglike a thousand little TV screens.Your whispers a remote controlchanging those flickering images.When security asks us to leave,you drive my car as I slumpagainst the window.I close my eyes and transport usStar…

Seamus Has the Palsy Now

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Seamus’ hands are shaking now that once were still as stalking cats.