Most read stories

Without Knowing It

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If this isn’t Paradise, what is?/ Your own eyes wide with/ the imagination, the knowing,/ the not-knowing of it all.

Couch Potato Blues

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Whenever I get the urge to write a poem I try to talk myself out of it.

The Right Kind of Magic

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1. During the outpouring of our newly discovered grief oh how we danced, electrical, into oblivion, maybe once, twice. It was toall to be expected, but not everything you feel is always real. After all the dust may settle, but it…

O Starving Poet

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A novel is an idea that has Survived many severe beatings While a poem is a homely thing that was Never even asked to the dance Art Speak, however, is the art of Systematically overstating and Re-inventing the Obvious to the point of Distr

Dongs

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[YOU BETTER BE READY FOR THIS!]

Ares Considers a Career Change

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Barbarians and savages wore feathers/ or frightful face paint or skin tones// one could recognize and aim for/ with weapons one could feel

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 …

Falling Rocks in Equal Doses

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Not sure I remember what's important, but I remember you. That's the whole problem I think. You're a drain where all my words wind up going down. All of them get lost inside of you. Eventually. And I'm left with nothing to say. Because all my words are…

Pets

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But in the dust bunny there was an equally relentless and sneaky foe. A brilliant General that silently marshaled its troops under tables and chairs, in obscure, shadowy corners, and along the unsuspecting flat surface of things.

they came to explain the wind

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How we segued from exploring the wind to eating a nitwit sandwich.

Love in the Nick of Time

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a dance in the moonlight

The Mother Kidnappers

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We kidnap mothers of all sorts: old mothers, single mothers, young mothers (rarely), but we never do it for ransom. As a society we are adamantly opposed to the use of violence. Our mission is to remove mothers from environments they are not appreciated in, whether by their…

Error Bars

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Is death like standing in a room at night and turning off the lights? You would still hear your breathing. You hold your breath. Silence. Darkness. Yet you feel gravity, your feet on the floor. Then the air brushes your skin. Remove the air,…

Delicate

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I'm not plagued with high levels. Must be all the raking I do. My pubes look as lush as my hair, so fire isn't even a concern. Maybe heat exhaustion is.This might be a poem,My oceans aren't small.

The poplar

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Sometimes we hurt ourselves, we scratch ourselves, we bleed — for a simple joy... All I wanted to do was to find the poplar again — the tree of my young arms, of my budding breasts. My fingers used to circle around its bold and vigorous waist, but in the…

Rain Song at Summer’s End

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Soft rain, small rain, steady rain— what the shrubs and tangled young red oak tree need—

Genesis

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Nothing came of the dust.

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

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He had to get over the short bridge

Promenade

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At the week's end, memories may come to you Of weekends same as those just gone before, That fade away from seeing as a tide's grey flue, That vanishes once travelled to a shifting shore: Still, hope you'll know a girl for an hour anew, One who fades…

Drowning

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I found Mathew face down, cold and ridged like a plastic doll. I had overslept because he never cried—never told me he was hungry. Rodney had to peel my arms from around my son so the paramedics could take him in a blaze of flashing red and white lights.…

The Jewelry of Yaks

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It’s too early in the morning to play the glockenspiel. I’ll just sit here and knit this tiger.

Fish Tales

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Billy's days were much like his yesterdays, with little hope the ones to come would be any different.

you were on top of us freely

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I remember you were on top of us freely, and we were starry with enjoyment. You turned to the beautiful youth because we were light, because we were so full of life that our skin alone could not seem to contain us. We were burning, burning on all

Requiem for a Laptop

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I don’t understand what happened. I keep pushing your buttons but you won’t do anything. You just lie there, cold and dead, staring back at me without any light and I feel like I’m going to cry.

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.

He Is Not Gone

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Since then I have come to feel his absence and feel that it might be time to try and write about this again. I used to spend a great deal of time managing things on facebook for a very large group with over 10,000 members. While some might not understand

picture (im)perfect

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not

Little Red Riding Hood, The Woodcutter, Grandma, and The Big Bad Wolf: Their Ongoing True Story

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Grim though it be Little Red Riding Hood and The Woodcutter, with his hewing axe, eviscerate and skin the Big Bad Wolf, thus rescuing sickly Grandma. Grandma’s a bit worse for the wear after her couple of hours in Big Bad’s overstuffed stomach. But she cl

Beach Tale

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I should have worn shorts.

1

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That evening, my friend and I were at a McDonalds'. It was late in the evening, and we got together after she sent me a text message she meant to send to someone else. I got a burger. She got fries.