Most read stories

Sweet Story

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I came back down in skinny jeans with holes in them and the tights still on. Little purple kneecaps.

The Last Last Ride

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You’d stay on this small roller coaster ride all summer long if you could and if I were a rich man, I would let you. Is it fun riding around in circles? You’re only nine; of course it’s fun.

Late Night Phone Call

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When the phone rings that late at night, it’s not good.

Five Million Yen: Chapter 44

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He found a small place on a side street, Bar Oiseaux Ésotérique. There was a sign on the door that read: Jazz Ce Soir: Giovanni Lezardino: Jazz grillé et sautés. Ben had met Lezardino at the Newport Jazz Festival last year.

I Can Sing Like That

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Here lately Daddy's been talking bout' filling momma full of holes. Not like he would do it cause' he likes talkin' just to hear the words come out even if they don't mean anything to anyone but him. But just to be on the safe side I went and hid them shells cause' he's got…

Five Million Yen: Chapter 51

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Sounds like something a woman would do. —You think so? said Ben. What woman would do that to me? I don’t know any women in Nice.

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…

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 45

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Rent yourself a decent place to live, one with a shower.

Little Ditty Down

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I got caught writing poems at the paint factory several times before they fired me I got caught in the middle of one of my best lines but can’t remember what I meant to say anymore, but I know, just know it was something real good,

Running Down The Drive-By Screamers

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All the wonderful Zen-like molecules had dispersed from my body and were now hiding deep in a dark corner. Rage boiled in my blood. My veins, in fact, couldn't contain the boiling blood and they exploded, making my whole face and skin turn blood red. My

Wildfire

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Those resting in clusters of bones, Cradled in ashes of what once were homes.

A Measure of How Far Behind We Are + Anecdotes from Recent Rambles

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[T]he Thwaites Glacier . . . still exists as of August 2021, though probably with at least five hundred and twenty fewer gigatons of ice mass than in August 2011.

Creamy, Dreamy, Coppertone Cologne

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and live for that moment

A Man, a Market and a Mayor

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He sat on the floor and said, "I found this letter W in the jungle. It's b-b-beautiful,"

roses, a dozen

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I know I shouldn’t brag, but you bought me roses, a dozen. I felt I could balance anywhere, when I was with you. I could achieve poise on the head of a pin. There was no need to hide anything, and I heard night music wherever we went. I sat with lovers,

Oh Captain, Good Captain: Part III

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His hands are just like mine The crook of his nose The green of his glare Pearls of his mouth The soft strength of his voice Those diligent digits The brick of his build The grim complexion of father She fell for familiar A man just like me …

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

Out in the Street

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As kids, we grew up in a city that we swore was suburbia. Nearly every street had a few houses with a kid or two that was missing their front teeth. There were kids we knew well and kids we'd wish we'd known but they lived a few…

Le Petit Clown - August 9, 2002

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Bald on top and wavy curls projecting from both sides. He looked at me and his eyes rolled round and round in opposite directions. He asked, "What did you think of the play, clown hater?"

American Soul

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At one time it appeared that Everyone was walking their own angel On a leash, but Now we're not that sure at all And it could come out in song That it might really be the angels Who’ve been walking us All along All this broken glass

Where in daytime nothing is

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I had imagined what it must be like / out there in the middle place

Head

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

they are light

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They are light, their souls, yours among them. And women who seduce you should understand that, and use their bodies carefully, so that you are unharmed by the night that is filled with them. The beautiful youth who would turn their flower as if you wer

My Space

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Hey, can you move over and let me sit down here? In German you would use Raum to mean room, or for an area, a region or something like that. There is another word for “room,” as in a room in a house, but you can't use either of those words to ask someone

The Monster's Other Face

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The yellowed and peeling posters of men and women with grotesque disfigurements under the slogan, “Know Your Criminals!” that peered down at him from the walls were a familiar sight. Everyone knew that people with faces like that were as monstrous as they looked…

Poetry & Poets

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“I’ve read your blog recently,” my friend told me over waffles and cold potato salad at 10PM, “and something strange is going on in there.”

Status Update

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I can't tell a cigarette from a cheese sandwich as I stare vacantly into the synthetic sunshine of my laptop. Jump up a few lines to add a comma to show the possession of clocks they do belong to people after all. I sip my coffee from a novelty mug, ho

Cattle Crossing

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"You wantin' one of them kittens? If we can't give 'em away we're gonna drown 'em. We got too many."

The Vegetable Man

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He'd hug us against our wishes when we tried to get a better look at his cart, his odor a mix of sweet and sour and stink.

Life Sentence

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“I believe it is some form of primitive recreation with a board and wheels,” the one and a half eyed orange blob said with an Australian accent.