Most read stories

Letter to Garrison Keillor

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Hilda Raz lost a daughter. Her son gained a persona, backed by biological components. I was impressed by his male-pattern baldness. A biological genius. And yet, I was reduced and in the elevator mentioned crying about it.

The Blistering Continent

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Marvin and first had met four years ago on an iron train peeling through the seething Asian night on rails between Bangkok and Chiang Mai city...

They Don't Get to Say Everything

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The world hasn't ended. Your part in it is still ongoing. The going on world hasn't winked out. Every possibility is still out there. In there, out there, it doesn't matter where you are. The here and now claims you for its only tribe. They only want someone to tell them…

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…

My Plumber

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It sounds so good.

Love in the Nick of Time

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a dance in the moonlight

picture (im)perfect

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not

Dark Matter

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The darkness isn’t evil but invisible/ in the otherwise excellent light of day

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

A Child is Born

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I came out of the Quick Stop and found her in the back seat of my ten-year-old Camry. I don’t know who she is, or why she chose my car. I do know she’s having a baby any minute now.

Quel Bordel

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Our friend, M. Dieu-Juste partnered in a used car business with a Vietnamese mechanic, Mr. Tran. Cars however, were not their only venture.

The Young Hate the Old

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The old hate the young. Robe exposed monks do not Hate mosquitoes. It is one. It is one hand. It is on. Mountains don't hate sky. The rich hate the poor. The poor hate the rich. The parade of scholars hate the …

I Was Supposed to Write This

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I was supposed to write a history of the old world and expose the selfish ones who use their best kept love for evil against the good little witches of childhood, but it made no sense to me to go after them in that obvious a way. They…

Fortune Favours

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We're all just meat and atoms who can no more sense into the great beyond than a horse can fly a plane.

Watching the Clock

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Benjamin did everything by the clock. He ate when the little hand pointed to five and the big hand pointed to six. He danced when the little hand pointed to three and the big hand pointed to seven. He slept when they both hit twelve.To be more precise, he did everything…

From the Cradle

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Loss and awakening are irrevocable. Love and grief are one.

Pitcher

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the shape only adhering

Winter Queen

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Love is

My nose

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When I was 14 I accidentally heard a woman saying behind my back

Freedom

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His senses were heightened. The scratching on the table with his finger nails, intense nervousness, the noise magnified every second, the ball point pen was piercing into his sweaty palm.

Palinode for a Love That Failed

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Palinode: A poem written to retract something said in a prior poem.

The Sadness of Being On Line and (Bonus Extra!) The Driver

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He had to get over the short bridge

Here, You Are Alive

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He doesn't tell her that he is married, and that his five year old daughter who is living at your house has a mother back in that same city

We the Wild Men

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There's a whole pack of us, men minted from hot brass and thumbtacks. Too tough for sensibility's sake.

fabulous birds

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Fabulous birds perched nearby, where we were. In their memory there goes the little god, original, in the midst of it all, happiness like anything near the river-mouth. Letting yourself dabble in the femaleness of it. In the lower world or on the playin

Straps

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high school football players who'd been hit wrong and instantly become quadriplegics

Still Photographs

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one will become a tobacco king; another will steal copper plumbing on moonlessnights.

Portrait without Birds

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so Tippi has no interest

My First Winter in Massachusetts

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My first winter in Massachusetts feels medieval: cold, dark, and endless.

The Wedding Is Off

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I sat in the kitchen with the phone in my hand. The phone had just stopped ringing. When it rang, its screen lit up with the face of the caller. It vibrated and played a tune called "Dusk 2 Dawn." Now the kitchen was silent.