Most read stories

Captions

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This is my house. You park in the back. * This is a picture of flowers and hands.

Forgetting Superman

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I forget you. Upfront: that’s how this ends.

Hotel Khadijah

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"A prostitute of the Hotel Khadijah in Rahab fell in love with my father...."

Great Moments in Blindness

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I am complicit in the darkness

The Underwear Thing

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Our banter has shifted, like wading from the shallow to the deep end. He taps his foot. “Your underwear reminded me of my grandma’s underwear.”

The Laughing Buddha

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I. When I was young, my best friend was only three inches high. He was chubby, always cheerful, and very funny. He didn't start out as anything much. I always imagined he came into being in a small factory, in China, at the mercy of two small, yellow hands and a …

Inner Charlie

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When Charlie woke up he couldn’t find his inner Charlie.

What I find

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is every word is a small step takenaway from you that arcs back to me likea mamba's mouth. I'm not going aroundin place so much as running in circles. You can see my devilry here. You arethe truth here and that makes me the lie. You'renew morning. I'm much, much more…

Big Secrets

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O’Malley imagined the blissful, narcotic innocence of Toby’s world where soft-shell crabs crawled into people’s mouths and hummed a happy tune as they were chewed and swallowed.

ER Chronicles (3)

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In the shower she sees that her nipples are large and brown, feels the weight of her breasts in the hot water, and suddenly her hand is between her legs, seeking the pleasure that's always been denied her, always

LOTUS

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Make cartography with your mouth...

Under Perfect Conditions...

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If when he pulled his lips from mine he didn’t say a word, and if he didn’t try to explain or try to win me with bullshit...

Lord of Autumn

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Gordon He pressed the side of his face to the pillow and waited for the sound of birds. The room was black, the window open; when a breeze came the curtains billowed out against a lighter sky. He heard the clock. He heard the dry sound of Helen breathing;…

NEEDS FROM THE FOREST

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Holly Hope had met Latest Girlfriend once and was pleased to see that the woman wore stylish dresses, even if the end results looked like Liz Claiborne had tried to clothe a cigarette machine.

Why They Cried: Ted

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Ted did not understand turn-of-the-century costume dramas, and because he didn’t understand them, he often referred to them as "chick flicks" or "English crap." Even when the principals were not British. Even when the principals were Winona Ryder.

How It Is

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When Ryan isn’t around, those of us who know him lament that he peaked at 17, at Disney World.

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, “

Three Ways of the Saw

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I’m at the kitchen sink washing down pills when they bump up my driveway in a blue Toyota pick up, its bed eaten through with rust so bad I can see past the holes in the body to the frame.

tea

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what a mess

Animals in Reverse

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She was still alive when I started to write the story of her life, called Lucy's Story, about her recovery from catnip, but it was not the real story. In the fake story, she took the subway to A.A.

55 words #4

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I drink with my thinking problem intact.

At a loss

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I used to charm you, hold you in my hand.

Putting the Fun in Funeral

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The funeral was a blast. One helluva time. We all had the time of our lives. Well, all of us except Dominic. It pissed me off that Dominic didn’t have fun. After all, he was the center of attention. The whole day was about him, and we spared no expense

The Thing on the Stair

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Autumn brings It

Poem for the Poet

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for Bill YarrowPoetry is a way of breathingagainst the enemy's chest withoutlosing consciousness again. Itis a ghost dance. Poetry is tobe determined by the plight of bees.Poetry is a waterfall ona mailing list. I've never tasteda finer whiskey than poetry.Poetry is half…

Sliver

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It was beautiful and bright and it felt so real.

Lay on Me

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On Friday nights I'm not there.

Glass

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Her bulldozer of a husband died five years ago.

No Pretty Boy

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Janice liked me being in the closet while she brought dudes home from the Mack. We both liked it, but sometimes, sitting on that folding chair for that twenty minutes among her clothes, all perfume-stanky and leather-smell, it felt like the whole world wa

Scuffle

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Last Christmas Eve, my Nana shot my grandfather in the foot because he wouldn't stop boning the woman up the street.  So on Christmas Eve, after Nana drank a bunch of those baby-sized Miller Hi-life beers, she went upstairs, got her pistol, and said, “I'm gonna…