Most read stories

Crosswords

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September 21, 2009 Dear Diary, She learned English by doing crosswords, my mom. I'm sure she picked up a few things from the people around her as well, but yeah, always doing crosswords. When I lived too far away to visit regularly, I bought a Scrabble…

A Haiku In Spirit But Not In Form On the Fine Art of Sumo

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Two titans move opposite one another

Wolf - Variation 5

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his eyes see blood as circumstance.

Wednesday Night Aliens

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The old-timers at the Working Man’s Club wear a sheen of indifference every Wednesday night. Beneath the wafting, cresting mountains of burning cigarettes smoke, the train-track rattle of dominoes chipping at the dark wood tables in the corner, the consta

Edward Ogle the Second

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doomsday kittens

and I am not with you, anymore

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Dancing at the pavilion leads to sex. A nectar builds up around the heart (damp curl of hair at the neck.) The heart does not know what it cannot have. It is dumb and does not know. But I, for one, hope that it never learns and becomes numb. There i

After Appomattox

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The renegade states- Virginia, Georgia,/ Texas, and the rest- should have lost their names

Five Million Yen: Chapter 38

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Inspector Paumé hung up the telephone. He looked at Dan Arris, who was staring out the window, shook his head and walked into the bathroom one more time to gaze upon the naked dead body of Claudia Monschaud.

Dissecting

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skin is soft and too easily sliced away

Drifting

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it's all a bit like the quiet steam drifting to nowhere off my microwaved hot coffee in the sunflower mug

Rock the Rhombi

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This is the place you need a third hand

It is I, Hamlet, King of the Crabs

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Ronnie comes home carrying two sacks of groceries, one including a four-pack of Virgil's root beer. This is heavy stuff. It amazes me she is able to carry these items up our steep hill, nearly a mile in distance. I watch the news on our French cable station while she…

jewels

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it is said to make your manliness last forever

Untitled

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the colors of the night

The Angel with The Broken Wing

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"She was like a perimeter guard for an advanced race of beings who looked human but were somehow para-human entities focused only temporarily within this dimension."

Self Portrait Without Colors

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I am the ritual/ banalities of days numbered,/ numberless, and numb.

Aromatherapy

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Marie Poupon-Kennedy wasn’t strangled by one set of hands; there were thirty sets around that long, pale neck.

This Bud’s For You

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I suspect I’ll make the right decision.

The Immunodeficiency Of Our Collective Hearts

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a set of 4 poems

AFTER

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Two lovers — their genders / faces / social identities / etc. up to the viewer’s imagination (though I caution you, dear reader, not to imagine yourself in this role due to the psychic intensity of the following passages) — writhe against each other

A Good Provider

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She looked over from the passenger seat at her husband and smiled. It had been twenty years. She hadn't expected him to remember. She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, placed her hand on his thigh.“We'll be home soon enough,” he said. He was not…

He's All Man--And He's All Mine

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My man’s got a habit that’s kinda strange. I’ve got a feeling he’s never gonna change. Whenever I take a trip, when I git back, my underwear’s ripped.

Broadloom

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I have constructed this emotion with tinfoil and stilts. I wear the mask of a typewriter. I have roots in Minnesota. I have a glass hat and a junkyard monstrosity pregnant with parables.

Spider on a Red Thing

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Equality became the next goal, rendering gay redundant in describing marriage. Gaelic life is ringed with sharing and lent the word slogan.

LEAVES

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...black birds fall from trees...

Addicts

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Popular wisdom would have it that heroin addicts are some kind of cross between vampire menace and low-rent cartoon.

Of the FTC and the Human Condition

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Humanity comes without a choice

Shade to Shade

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Cathy told the boy to sit in the seat behind her, and gave him her scarf for his face. He nodded and plucked the scarf gingerly from her hands, suspending it between the clean thumb and ring finger on his left hand.

Handicapping the Saints

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I've been a fan of hagiography—the lives of the saints—since first grade when Claude Dunham and I were asked to represent St. Stephen and St. Sebastian, two martyrs of the early church, in a tableau vivant of bored boys.

Florida Dreams of Peru

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Kiln dried mummies, landscape of once were alpacas. / Now all the wool is farmed in Alva