Most read stories

Help Us Locate Ourselves

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dove from the trenches, double-check

Along the Battlement

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We creep the hill, flat on our bellies through yellowed grass and stone, black dirt grimed on our bright faces like powdered war paint. We are sitting ducks as we approach, out in the open like this but Cobb believes no one will be watching this side; it

Rocking the Oldies: A Cautionary Tale

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We didn't know what what we were reading meant. We didn't even know if we were reading it right. In fact, we suspected that we probably were not.

My Plumber

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It sounds so good.

Genius

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Everything I write is gold, he mused. My words spill onto the page like ambrosia, nectar of the gods, filling an empty vessel with immortal life.

Attacking Panic

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I'm panicking trying to think of the next line in this poem

Colors of the Last Bright Morning

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I am a housekeeper at a private women's college in upstate New York.

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.

Take Two Llamas and Call Me in the Morning

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A nursing home that doesn’t believe in antipsychotic drugs uses alternative methods to calm patients, including a llama named Travis who walks through the halls.

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

Palinode for a Love That Failed

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

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…

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…

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.

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.

The Magic of the Old Man

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As far as I knew it was just an old man and his wife who lived in this house, but not really. I mean if you had seen what every person on that block had, you would have realized that many lived there, well many beings.

Love in the Nick of Time

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a dance in the moonlight

Waste

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When the compost thaws the past oozes out into the present....

Condimental

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"Excuse me, ma'am? You wanted the mayonnaise on the side, right?"No one ever called her ma'am again.

gravelortian part 4

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rinse plate cup glass spoon bowl soapy water

Remembering Conway

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But you can have a lap dance.

Con Artist

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The name he was using this time was Paul Sterling.

Wind Calling

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Listening to old friends speak the same way, the same things tells me they have been dead a long time. They are in their form of living, their self, there is no new season of growth. I witness each of them continue on the same path because it is familiar

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

Wish for the Left Hand

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Hardly a soul could pin him for creating the vehemence that found a streamule to her pen if she wrote in cursive or a fanjet to her keyboard if she typed quickly and satisfyingly in print, employing eight fingers and two thumbs—

Letter

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I'm writing you this letter played on a cherry flute. I'm sending it along through the poem's cloud of incense. The only delivery system I still hitch up for long distance pitching. I'm writing you a letter you'll probably never read. Never…

Mr. Bourgeois Drowns His Sorrows

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Late last night down at Jim's Saloon Everyone expected that the last balloon Would go Boom! The one they all saw coming And Lady Liberty would send the bad guys running

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…

traffic incident

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and i start screaming. i check the damage in my rearview mirror but there's nothing.