Most read stories

I Must Want it. No, I Must Need It.

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She rubs her head into mine...

Kitsch Pastiche

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Once upon a mind-flight Leary with the tripping became weary Of the psychedelic travel Felt the universe unravel

Sycamore Tree

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I love you, I said. A beautiful smile struggled through the pain. But I love you more.

Where I Sit Here Clad in Armour by the Stars

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Where I sit here clad in armour by the stars, I do not think of you; those thoughts are over. Beneath the silver here is light enough, To make me ponder by a lighter way. Beyond the bronze óf our sun and the others That haply rein the…

No Rocks On This End

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Take a flying leap?Mother would never agreeSo away from the campground we sneakTo show the boy where I was a boySummer day shirtless with swimsuits onOne hundred degrees walking through the treesThe season early with winter runoffWater here still seventy feet deepHoping the…

All God's Children

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Momma wakes us up early while Daddy's still asleep, pulls out white poster boards, markers from the closet, and together, we draw babies...

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…

Edward Ogle the Second

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doomsday kittens

Identity

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We’re forty-three.

femme fatale

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her knife cleaves a single red hair

I Kissed a Shirelle

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What do you do when a Shirelle asks you if you’re in the mood to dance?

Take Two Llamas and Call Me in the Morning

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A nursing home that doesn’t believe in antipsychotic drugs uses alternative methods to calm patients, including a llama named Travis who walks through the halls.

My Great Sensitivity

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I'm mucked now for sure. No one's going to discover my difficult poems in a locked away desk drawer somewhere after the dying fact. I remember how it feels to be knocked out by someone standing next to me in a simple white dress. This…

Nineteen in '72

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bursting girl there is no moon

For the Record

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As being ebbs it deepens. The mind grows truant. We inhabit a permanent Saturday.

Kathy

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"Happy New Year Willie."

Notes to the Dead

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The kind of poem poets write and read. I mean, hey I was feelin’ it HARD at 3:24 am, and this is what spilled out.

Metafictionaut

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I'm available most weekends.

Don't You Feel Like Crying?

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The sky was dressed in a wedding gown. The hooves of my horse clicked like consonants on the stone of the butte.

Neatly Creased Newspapers

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A thin line separated her lips, like something sketched with a pencil.

Final Fantasy

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That’s where her reputation Wild Cat came from.

Miss Miriam

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Miriam smiled as I entered through the old, creaky metal front door of her home. She sat still, face marked of deep wrinkles, tense with the pain only another cancer patient would understand. In that soft, sweet, melodic voice, she greeted me. '"Hello Ms. Monica, I've been…

Things being said

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Things are still being said in a world that sounds like rough bows and straight slicing arrows communicating with (smashing like fists) a poor pool of tired animals. There must also come a time to surprise these same cruel machines…

Morning Night (2,3,4)

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Monday MorningI wake slowly. My breath still escapes me. He's asleep on the sofa, legs hanging, hand hanging, lips hanging, a river of saliva somewhere. He tries to be the one that's okay when I'm not, but really he's just as bloody as I am. I wait til he starts to…

Excelsior - A poem in 9 parts (Post 5 of 5)

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VIII. Towards Affinities, Beyond My love, since I saw you last, since before we reached the chamber, I cannot count the quasars which have passed, but there still gleams Time, Like a memory of a lost event unwitnessed, and this illusion Carried…

Payments

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What it was for, didn’t matter. When Susan walked into Fred’s house every few weeks and start talking, he’d just nod and say, “Sure, I know how tough it is out there, baby.” Then they’d drink some wine and put on some music, and he’d give her a little mon

2-D CUCKOLDS IN TV SOAPS

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Tread acres and acres of aches

fields of gold

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The son stood on the porch with his grip packed. "I'm off to mine me a fortune a gold, Daddy." "Boy, there's a fortune in gold right here," said the father, indicating the ripe wheat, glowing in early morning sun. The kid slumped. "Pop, you turn over a rock there,…

Canary House

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The items were not selected. The people were not forced to choose, with tears and a suffocating feeling.

only connect

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lift my love and be lifted