Most read stories

Wolves and Butterflies

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But I do not dig graves, only cradles...

watch

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what drives them here?

The Naked Mountain

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Once upon a time, a young writer decided to leave his home in Iowa City, and seek wisdom in the East.

War Nurses and Lost Fathers - For Memorial Day

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I have been mother to a hundred soldiers, holding their hands barely knowing their names

Z Machine

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I'm afraid to find out what my spirit animal is

LOTUS

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Make cartography with your mouth...

| To Sew the Night Together, At Last | (A hybrid essay)

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____________________________________I get an internet connection and send this poem out in haste: Drugs, New Orleans…

Chimera (a wild and unrealistic dream or notion)

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... while I lie, cool as a nectar cream snowball, in my Maggie The Cat slip, painting my toenails a color called Bad Influence

Tree Voices (revised)

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Shhhhhhhh...

Short Fuse

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he scans the headlines of the tabloids as he waits to pay. “Dog Accidentally Shoots Man With His Own Gun, Elvis's Hidden Extraterrestrial Daughter, Swedish Man Bursts Into Flames on Train Platform.”

Peach

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She's standing outside the 7-11, skirt up round her ass. Ripe. She could be a whore but she looks way too classy. Plus she has a huge soda - I'd guess diet - and a Twinkie.

The Goldberg Variations

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Sorry Glenn Gould, I said, but our princess is in another castle. After that, Glenn and I went to an all night diner and ate scrambled eggs.

Wintering at Montauk

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Montauk was the solution. He had no job, no money. He could stay for the winter at the summer place. It would be a lark. He had come home to Great Neck after losing the last job and they were making broad hints at him to move…

Memory Freeze

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When the snow reached the windowsills I was no longer a virgin.

On the Rocks

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On the Rocks What matters these, to all, below the crest… If privilege of mind-blankness is the bay's? Remembrance breeds no fathoms of its rest- As plumb the circuit lulled, at each rephrase Of capture,…

Four Thousand Dollars from Baghdad

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“This is the most dangerous road in the world and you want to drive down it. You crazy,” he said.

Hobo Junction

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“How much is stuff worth? Stuff man! Bling! Cargo! STUFF! What's it worth to you? It ain't worth a shit, man! Clean clothes! Comfortable shoes! A ride! Those things are important! But they’re only stuff.

Still Life

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One rainy day I walked to an out-of-the-way section of town where the buildings were old, and the streets were cobblestone.

Rebuttal From My Vagina

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Dear Erin,And people call ME a pussy. Fuck you,The Cunt

No Goodbyes

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She walks through the house she’d bought. The filth and the stench of mould nearly make her retch. Dead fleas line the windowsills, the dressers, the floors.

Angels

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Not everybody sees Father. Not Mom, not Dad, not even my little brother, Andre, and he see lots of things. Me, I need to.

Greyhound

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I stare, out a dirty window, / into the sanitary blackness.

What You Catch a Glimpse of, Forget As Soon

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There are gestures, unmarred by the words put to them after all has failed. When Y. stopped you from talking to apply lip balm to your dry lips. Or she sidled up to you to read what you had written for her. When you lay on the grass together she put her head on…

Snatch XI

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Public voice when he's tense.

Alice Invading the Garden

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I'm Alice invading the garden, looking for souls among cards

The Blue of Milk

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She said this is our abode and it sounded like a warble and she made a sweeping gesture with her arm and the boy started to cry.

Briefly, on Dive Bars

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Every dive bar has a Max. Max is an elderly man. He wears a dented ball cap. He sits at the end of the bar, right along where it curves and then slams into the wall. You may find it cliché, but when Max enters the room, the patrons actually announce, “

The Boys

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The Boys The Boys, they call my brothers in the neighborhood, or Those Boys. The Taylor Boys. Sometimes, Mom calls them Thing One and Thing Two, like in The Cat in the Hat. Those bad boys. Nobody has brothers like my brothers, kicked off the school bus, barred…

Voltaire Drinks Thirty Cups of Coffee

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Voltaire drinks his coffee standing up in front of the microwave and he likes to hold one hand on his chest where his heart is while he drinks. He likes to feel his heartbeat quicken and then he imagines that he is a machine or something mechanical.

The 49 Days

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Where was she exactly? There is, of course, no answer to this question. But that didn't stop me from asking it. Constantly. Obsessively.