Most read stories

Mamba

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How does Bandie feel about snakes? This is my thought. What good is a serpent without venom?

Writing Prompts

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If you want to be a writer, just write stuff.

Omens

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The rain falls soft after a hard weekend.

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.

Oddities

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Sometimes he would get up at night, go outside, and stand in the middle of their back yard.

Nineteen in '72

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bursting girl there is no moon

End Game

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The will to make/ remains

The Oxymoronic Life of a Nearly Dead Woman

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I could have a minor stroke.

Jam Sessions with Wannabe Rock Stars

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Hey Sledge! Yo. Did you know Socrates hated the idea of writing thoughts down? He said it weakened the memory…made us lazy. Say wha? That's why he never wrote a book. The only way we know about him is through his student Plato's writing. St

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…

Orbital Mechanics/ National Poetry Month 2014/ 30 poems

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Captain Nemo never died./ He cruises all the seven seas/ below the waves in Nautilus 2,

dream lives and cancers

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Around sunset or sometime after, we are on the futon talking about dream lives and cancers. He asks me about my ideal living situation, my ideal career, my ideals in general. I would be a turtle, I say. I would travel and have a home I could always go to, I could always be…

The Third Leading Cause

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I leave the 29 to go after the 1

Coal Mine Pickle Jar

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I can’t move - I try to move my arms - I try to move my legs - If I can scream then that will wake me up - I scream

Release My Pajamas

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And then I heard “Yea, for I have seen the Father The Son, and the Holy Toast” Okay now, something up was weird

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…

Meet Your Happy-Go-Lucky Poet

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"Time is an ocean, but it ends at the shore. You may not see me tomorrow."--Bob DylanThey're writing poems, but not for me. Guess I'll write one for my own. For nobody that I know now. It's a pretty lonely world for someone who sings, not you, not with…

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.

Pops

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My father is the kind of man to shout at you / just because you took the wrong road / at least the road that he’s not used to...

Ben Clarone: Prologue Part 3

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The urban-abused Chevy looked older than its seven years.

Son

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Trenches coated with man-gruel laced the earth.

Man

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There’s not enough time because we come back to the things we never learn and forget them.

Her Sunday Story

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She turned on the television. The newscaster was her husband. She changed the channel. Her husband interviewing her husband. She changed the channel. A baseball game. Her husband pitched to her husband who popped a fly ball which was caught by her husband

black crescent curved under

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I hope my blonde down still beats in your heart, and the black crescent curved under, you will remember, and I would move toward your window where my own heart lay in a dish, with the thick valley lifting. Remember, I crossed and uncrossed my legs f

Tethered

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Handsome are the houses,effigies in synthetic stucco: prosperity divinedbehind parted walls. Behold the ersatz simplicityof the residential subdivision, contrived construction inline and line and line. …

Mr. Townsend Wakes Up

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Mr. Townsend is a normal guy. He's been on auto pilot a while. When he finally snaps out of it, he's surprised at what he finds.

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.

The Tragically Short Life of the American Barfly

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That is then and the devil reigns in the here and now. Tonight I am the barfly and tomorrow I die.

Stop Sign

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