1237 3 0
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When the deer did come, I couldn't shoot straight. I didn't feel scared, but I didn't want to miss and my hand was shaking. I hurried. I held my gun pointing out at the path and fired. But it went a little wild and instead of taking the deer down, I shot
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1237 9 6
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Through feeling her life story,
I understood mine, more,
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1237 3 3
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“Mirela,” I said. “Mirela, Mirela, Mirela.” I must have told him a hundred times, no exaggeration. “What the hell kind of name is that?” I ignored him, lit a smoke and watched a group of teenage girls as they laughed their way…
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1237 5 1
|
Crowded into the heart are impressions past
These are not recognized in the available light
of the present. So they sit in the dappled shade
drinking, the clear glass partially filled with various
and red liquid. Hat tilted back. Black top hat
S
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1237 0 0
|
day1
I've been fucked. I've been fucked. I'm supposed to behave now and say all these things I don’t really want to say. I've been fixed in spot. I have been turned into a broken record, or no even worse, a broken record case. I've become a parody, a p
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1237 4 5
|
Their relationship had proved volatile. The husband had gone missing. The wife had gone dead.
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1237 4 2
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His wife left behind a mini-muffin tin, a cookie sheet and a gaudy, scratched green metal tray decorated with an artist’s renderings of New Hampshire tourist spots.
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1237 4 4
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It was a battered, creaky, rickety old thing, this wheelbarrow. It had two wooden handles with cracks running through the wood, a fat rubber wheel and a deep tray encrusted with the mud and plaster and grout that it had transported through decades of heavy use. Based on…
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1237 4 4
|
Yeah, okay, so
pigeons are the bums
of the bird world
So what are a flock
of crows working over
a wheat field while
the artist Vincent
is desperately trying to live
with his bleeding ear
or to sell at least
one painting during
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1237 3 1
|
He told me it isn’t my fault. That my brain isn’t slowly and deliberately killing itself, not barbarically stripping away its own wiring to expose razor bursts of electricity.
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1237 4 3
|
I had the blues. I was feeling down the day the circus came to town. There was cash in my pocket and a bag of weed. I went to the circus with a desperate need to renew my faith in the good of mankind. Perhaps under the big top some laughs I’d find.
|
1237 0 1
|
Headsets screaming with suburban boredom
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1237 4 2
|
And when you come back, you work minimum wage and have water cooler sex and your face is no more than archives.
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1237 4 3
|
We stop laughing when the doctors come in. Don't want to scare them.Ben (car accident, Christmas, gifts all over the road), tries to freak them out though. He'll make a low soundsometimes. One nurse ran so fast she almost wentout the window. Sheryl her name…
|
1237 1 0
|
“I was thinking about the other night.” He said from the living room. She could hear his work boots scrape and creak across the old wood floors, and the sound of his weight landing on the couch, then the snap of the lighter as he lit the pipe and…
|
1236 0 0
|
The dark staircase creaked as he crept down to the basement. The even whoosh-whoosh of the washing machine was comforting to him. He reached for the light as he entered the room. A dim bulb blinked on above him. There was a small table across the room f
|
1236 0 0
|
1. It was never me operating Jack Ketch. I let someone else do it. Never saw his face. He smelt of burning oil.2. I stole from the kids' parents. While they watched the show, I sent my mates round to pick their pockets.3. I gave the arresting officers nightmares. It was…
|
1236 5 3
|
His spoken words had reavealed nothing, but the far-off look in his eyes had told me good-bye.
|
1236 0 0
|
"Here's the bad news: you have to wear a patch over your eye for the next six weeks."
|
1236 0 0
|
Adam, now Eve-less, stood before his most exquisite Bonsai, wallowing in the miseries of youth.Seth Gall has had work published in China, Canada, and the U.S. His work has appeared in Word Riot, SmokeLong Quarterly, and Nanoism. He is S.H. Gall in decomP…
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1236 4 1
|
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1236 2 3
|
we get back to discussing how long a year is although no one talks about what a woman is or a man and they are just there. rocking chairs rock. sitting and spinning, just like spider’s spin waiting for him – to make a coffee.
|
1236 1 1
|
Oriana, much as she wanted to, did not sleep with Francesco, propriety ruled.
|
1236 9 4
|
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.
|
1236 11 8
|
Gestures we would like to make in the solitude of a café terrace ... Early in the morning ... She's sitting there, seems shivering. Grey dress, red scarf. Her eyes move. I try to meet them - small, vague black clouds which pass, without resting, by mine. She drinks her…
|
1235 1 1
|
Sometimes your Monday morning answer to the inevitable questions don't have to be so mundane and repetitive. And sometimes they do. No one gives a shit anyway.
|
1235 7 6
|
Marcel Proust had never been to a big-box store before. He was dazzled by the sheer size and scope of the store and the seeming impassivity of the shoppers. So many products, so many shelves, such strangely intriguing examples of the human condition. The people seemed…
|
1235 3 1
|
Ha. “Real damage.” The guy was in the ICU when I woke up in the jail cell. Turns out he was a cop. In a small town. The town where it happened. How I ended up in the state police holding cell, I have no idea. Just lucky, I guess.
|
1235 1 1
|
We are diminished by our desire
for innocence, and we debase those who
possess it.
|
1235 5 1
|
As with the trouble with gambling, I managed to spend beyond my self-suggested limit at the farm while wanting to do little else. It became a chase for "money" (numbers like rubles) ...
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