Most read stories

Tending Toward Inertia

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She meets her old dance instructor, named Ira, in the back of a bus that wheezes & squeaks. The passengers seem to deny the small clouds of white exhaust

The Casual Writer Reconsiders His Dick

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The casual writer uses the work "dick" often. Other words for this appendage he finds pretentious, emasculating, or too much trouble to look up. A dick has simple motives. It is an agent of birth and death, a divining rod for the dark wet.

The Houseguest

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"Who's that?" Carl asked about the man standing near the fence. "Says his name is Marty Lopez," Jake replied. "For real?" Carl moved to one side for a better look. "I know. He doesn't look like a Lopez," Jake said.

Totem Song

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Will you leave me, you, the one?

When Leaves Fall

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And then she'd wipe her eyes, sweep her hair between the crest of her left ear and the side of her face and press that ear to the knot.

two of five

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Across the street from third street music school there is a church wherein I saw a man, a magician, strap himself into a strait jacket in front of the organ under jesus's crucifixion, in front of a church full of screaming kids and their parents and…

Hair

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I had a temperature of 105 degrees. I lost all my hair.

Found - Guano

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Snail ooze and bull semen

Old, Broken Toys

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A boy sits in a room filled with old, broken toys. A mother is in the next room reading Cosmopolitan, dreaming of a life that should have been hers. There is the zoo and an unnecessary stroller on a very humid day, beads of sweat dripping slowly down a face. A trip to the…

Monitor

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In the darkness I lay waiting for the day to dissipate then I follow the footfalls that follow

Answers Without Questions

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My father did not die before I was born. That much I can cite as not only fact but an absolute necessity to my existence. However, my father is dead. You can wrap as much sentiment and emotion around it as you wish, but you can't get away from the blunt…

Thwart

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Daily, at 3:47 PM, below his office window, a child in an orange windbreaker sits in the last car of the T, in the rear seat, face pressed against glass.

This Is Not Your Poetry

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Your begging hands are hacking me up again like garden claws that know not the difference between a delicate solar powered flower and a tightening choke of killing weeds.It's not like it's even mine to keep-- like a legal document I'd…

The Choice

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The bull had flesh of a deep red that turned black where the massive muscles knotted. Colt thought of the way blood turns black when it pools too deep. There was nothing but muscle, an intricate network of coarse fibers woven tightly and wrapped in a thin

A Question for the Gods

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She reached out her arms and spoke to the moon, "I ran from my fears, from loving too soon." She gazed at the heavens and cried to the stars, "I could not promise him all of my heart." She wiped away her tears and laughed at the trees, "Not a soul on this earth would…

Someday

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He called himself Theodore Birdwhistle.

Soliloquies of the Interior Zombies

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My inner shape must be a ruin of organs,/ dead or dying. But do come close enough/ for me to hear. I need to know your story.

One Night Stand in Laguna Beach

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One time in Laguna Beach I remember sleeping with a girl I met at this café, the Jolly Roger, when we went back to my apartment and had unprotected sex. She said she was on the pill, but you never know. It was just that one time, and she did seem desperat

At a Reading

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His wife leans her head against a beam with her eyes closed while he reads out loud. Her mouth shut tightly, almost twisted shut. She's so weary. She raises her collar and sinks further into her neck. When he shouts, or explodes — nothing. Not

Sequence Instead of Services on Sunday

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We reach for things and objects// made of ever smaller things and objects

Ice Box

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To become an objection as cool as an ice box. To wither the crops. To hold a baby in your hands. Never mind, the arms. We shoot photographs of you. I still believe in black bile. I still think I'm holy. This rhyme is non-violent. Snap.

The January Oak

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tiny banners, browned/ and wrinkled by time,

no one answered

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I knocked on all the windows, on all the doors. No one answered. The television was glowing. I went around behind your house and saw it through the curtains, blowing in. (I knew you were hurting.) Knocked and tried the sliding glass door, the flimsy scr

a confession

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a pit-bull or a rottweiler or something like that

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 42

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If I start getting rambunctious, put me in a cab.

Toys For Tots

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Every year at the orphanage, a new trend sprouted fully grown from a Sears Christmas catalog, and even though our belief in Santa Claus was dashed early on, we still loved the season because it meant a Paint by Number, Pogo stick, Hula Hoop or whatever…

Head

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Z. takes lewd/suggestions/with little blinks/of his everlasting/eyelashes.

Under New Management

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You always liked the color of your nose, raspberry red. It matched the glittery dazzle of your rainbow hair when the neon lights hit it just right, and man did they always hit it just right, the vibrant honey-yellow big-bird frizz and feathers, swaying to and fro as…

Lineage

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the arc of her invective presumably aimed at the little boy and girl ambling halfway down the block behind her

Heart Apart

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Yes, I had pulled my own heart apart Yes, I had slipped up on time itself In its own backyard behind my memories And scared the crap out of it By not yelling, just sniffing at its neck Longingly, tearing it apart with my teeth Wishing I had