Most read stories

A Character Rebellion

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I had coffee with one of my characters today. It did not go well. I thought we were friends, but I guess I was wrong.

Self Portrait Without Colors

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

A Night of Furversion

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Another subject of interest is "furverts"--"individuals who engage in sexual activity while dressed in animal costumes."

God and Man at Yale

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“Well, of course I served in the CIA . . . everybody did, back then!” he says with a grin. “Two goddamn bloody well years . . . I was a regular Nayland Smith, I tell you. …

"It's Just Breakfast" Fills Dating Service Niche

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"Too many people were presenting themselves in a false light on lunch dates,” she says. “The power ties on the men, the come-you-know-what-me pumps on the women–that’s not what married life is about.”

Snap, Crackle & Pop!

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snap

Earthquake 4.0

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I thought the dog was up to someting.

An excerpt from "Goodbye, Baseball"

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The boys were his biggest nuisance. The unwashed guttersnipes poured into the park early, all shoeless and half shirtless. He only imagined how thick the fleas must be in their thick tangle of hair, of which only two didn’t have covered with a cap with an

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.

Band Names Too

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Gun Notches Working Stiffs Garlic Torch Dog Crouch Menbrain Membrane Ein Zwei Drei Fake German Soldier Wet Tissue Tissue Paper Pants Tough Stain Adam and Evil Closed Loophole Wait For It Fiscal Cliff and the Cliffhangers Repu

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

The Poet

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It dawned on herthat her imagination hadswollen beyond belief

Song In the American Soul - song

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Through the lonely night All the roads are breathing While somewhere on the road The American soul lies bleeding The past is all in yellow The future’s all in blue While living in the moment Has lost its rosy hue

Corporal punishment

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We huddle behind the bedroom door and hear the swish of dad's belt as he yanks it from the pant loops, our backsides clenched.

Award Season

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I made the List!

In This Neo-Liberal Society, We Are All Julia Roberts

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When he was 24 he ran away with a girl, forgot about his little office job in the city, went with her to the mountains, just the two of them, to live out a life of romance that a chalk box like the metropolis can’t give you—

This Bud’s For You

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I suspect I’ll make the right decision.

Classic

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"I love you.”“Night.”Back at the screen door she answers “What?” I stand under her nose and say “Box is out of juice.” Inside she sits me on the black and white polka-dotted sofa we make love around here and there.…

A Dream History of Outer Space

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Look. There's just you and me, that's all that's left. All the rest of them had already given up a long, long time ago. They dropped their precious, colorful dreams like rusted railroad lanterns, like abandoned pumpkins, and littered the Twitching…

George the Coward on Staying Home

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He knew she’d spend the day furiously scrubbing the best she could too, despite the hot house in the middle of a Southern Summer, and despite no matter how hard she tried, the place would always look filthy.

Arcana Magi Zero Arc 3 - c.1

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Kenichi the boar arrived from the forest with the other elders. The police officers stepped back, awed by these large nature creatures.

A Vignette on Fathers

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On 3rd when you looked at your 389th happy New Year greeting, you autotyped “same to you”. No one on whatsapp knew. At week 17 of IVF therapy when you and your new bride could do no more; doctor Mehdi said neither could he. At 5 minutes left, you mi

The Sun, the Trees, the Clouds, the Grass

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The sun was a dish of burnished courage

THE LATE SOLICITORS

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Writers, in general, enjoy the solitude that their profession allows, or more precisely, requires. I consider myself a member of that generalized group, along with a more exclusive club of writers who also tolerate an occasional…

Falling from Grace

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Royce fell from Grace and landed in the fountain surrounding her pedestal. It wasn't the first time Royce had climbed the statue. It was the first time he'd been sober.

Myself in Opposition to You

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The Sunday sunset slowly simmers the sea.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 50

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Oriana, much as she wanted to, did not sleep with Francesco, propriety ruled.

Love and How It Gets That Way

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and we spun you, / spun you!

Fugue No. 3

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The falcon cannot hear the falconer. The rain comes down in sheets.

Knock Knock

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The bad moods crash the door down like an overzealous SWAT team and wreck the furniture. The good moods arrive unannounced.