Most read stories

For Linebacker-Poets, Annual Award Ceremony a Jarring Hit

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Dutton felt thwarted in his literary career, producing only the classic "Here I sit all broken-hearted, paid a nickel to crap and only farted" in a locker room stall at halftime of the 1963 Weedwacker Bowl.

Guramachimachi

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The carnival passed through this hotel one time only, its boarded guests pretending to ignore the smell of outdoor whore in their bedding.

stop bullying racists

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Everyone wants to feel like the world has lined up against them and any achievement they have been able to attain was done despite the best efforts of everyone who isn't them. That's a given. But there is one group of people who seem to have a point.

Good for the Gander

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“This isn’t fair!” I rail to my late wife. “It’s all right for you, why not me?” She never answers me directly. Not in whispers, or with knocks, or even dreams.

For the Record

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

End Game

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The will to make/ remains

The Meds

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What don't they all do for us?They absorb, eliminate negative feelings and make you smile. To just name a few ... They make you sane, how insane it may seem from a certain point of view.But let me tell you this: I'm 1300 kms away from my family. I don't care much about…

Five Million Yen: Chapter 22

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-Looks like you could use some light, Austerlitz, said one of the men in a heavy Russian accent, or perhaps you prefer the dark?

Five Million Yen: Chapter 24

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As Zoë says, “You and your musician friends drink in industrial quantities.”

Confrontation on the field of play

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The boy wasn’t raised this way.

Stop Sign

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Made sense then, should have written it down - But I fell back to sleep instead

Lost Poems

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The ride home after Basketball and a little beer; That's when the best poems happen. Poems pin-prick sharp Puncturing through dulled Senses while streetlamps pass Overhead. They find their way inside you But they don't stick. Poems left back somewhere On the…

no caps

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...

Sea of indifference

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Sea of indifference Coming and going Never committing Like a fickle lover that erodes a hopeful heart

The Oxymoronic Life of a Nearly Dead Woman

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I could have a minor stroke.

woke up in 2010//an exercise four years ago

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I am from slow diagnoses, impatience and parents skeptical of New York City doctors. I am from tall buildings, yogurt shakes, and envy for my brother's asthma machine. I am from here, stay away from there, don't get too close, be careful at the edge, the…

No Dogs! No Dogs Allowed!

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the impression I had gotten of him was that he was fifty percent yuppie and fifty percent drug dealer from Marin.

Minneapolis

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He will later claim he knows nothing of the girl’s disappearance and that I was the last one seen with her, which will unfortunately be true but not the real story…

THE PERFECT KIND OF HAPPY

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I think of particles exploding, coming back together like some physics experiment I don’t know the name for. “Large Hadron Collider,” you say. But that’s not what I mean.

Spices

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In the tang of winter warm and summer cool,

Three-toed Sloth Love

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Couldn’t we just do a quick ie

Tons

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Drink tons of water they keep telling me...

A Girl You Couldn't Hurt

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“You take the woman, you get her records,” Dean said, and he didn't seem the least bit troubled by the Streisand album.

a small appliance man

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"Did you ever steal any money?" he finally asked. "Never. It was mostly toasters. There was the odd coffee maker or electric can opener ... but mostly ... toasters."

Christmas Potluck

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"I see how little kids might find you creepy," she says between red velvet bites...

Now

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I'm looking for the perfect/passage, a safe, sound/jettison to now.

And then we... Part 2

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The way I figure it, mom wasn't worth a shit. I'd cry when she hit me but she'd just keep pounding. When I was seven, she burned a hole in my back. It happened one day at the fair. We were walking around. She didn't have any money so all we could do was walk. I had…

Skinburn

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I wrinkled my face up in the glare and warmth of the sun. I baked easy in the hovering heat and my spot-speckled skin ate up the rays and swallowed deeply.

BORDER JUSTICE

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CHAPTER ONE About nine-thirty P.M. on Friday night, Mary Fowler pushed her grocery cart through the double sliding glass doors. It was three weeks before Christmas. The sun had set and the temperature had begun to cool rapidly in…

The Meat Lady

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After all our morals And ethics of distrust Have been ripped out And discussed There’s still the Meat Lady At the end of the day Standing around in the midst of the crowd Handing out her meat In little morsels on a toothpick Af