Most read stories

Silent Minority

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She smoothed her hair with a hand that should have been the turning pages of a cheap dime-store novel. I watched her from under my eyebrows but kept my head fixed downward, pretending to pay attention to the 6 ½ narrow stiletto heeled black alligator pumps. Not easy to do,…

Won’t You Be My Neighbor

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I passed the Crouching Tiger Qui Gong dojojo with Suntory Dagdibolbishon.

Wipe That Smile

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One thing about eating shit:

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.”

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…

Reflector

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I circled about six times - mesmerized by the sign that said you needed socks. Just passing through it said - As I made my third pass I thought - well, aren't we all.You looked cold. Fragile. And younger than the wrinkles that engulfed your hands, neck…

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

Head

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

A Story About A.Who Wants to Be An Entrepreneur

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A. wants to be an entrepreneur but cannot get with the program.

Arcana Magi Memorial Vol.7 - c.5

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Azure lifted her head up – her heart racing – and she closed her eyes focusing her mind.

FIREWORKS

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It's eight fifteen in the morning, my favorite time to call, and a guy named Ernie DeCampo answers the door in his work pants and a t-shirt. “Good morning, Mr.De Campo,” I say. “Do you have any fireworks in your home?” …

He's So Pretty I'd Dump My Boyfriend For Him

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I remember when we first met, telling my friends, He’s so pretty I’d dump my boyfriend for him. I remember driving all around Elmhurst looking for parking. We sat in the car eating figs and popcorn. We tried to throw the fig pits or stumps, or wh

Firecracker to the Dome

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pulling my bones apart, fingers are supernatural beings

Almond

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Almonds of childhood – fending off needless tears and chocolate impulses, almonds of my teens, slivered and toasted industrially baked settling in on egg washed croissant…mashed into the kitchen sink of the catch-all bear claw, then the taste and shiv

Creamy, Dreamy, Coppertone Cologne

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and live for that moment

After coming back from nowhere,

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you notice some of what you need― a pressure of something you've intended, somewhere without a place,

Cape Charles

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"ain't hardly got a lick o' crabs today"

on a long suburban plain

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We were stuck sweating it out on a long suburban plain when you left. Or else we’d mob the one visible hill (in Palos Hills, or Hillside) and turn the televisions on, looking behind us nervously, hopelessly, until every evening became a Wednesday evenin

Buena Vista Street

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Nostalgia is when memories turn into Gods of knowing who you were.

Other Brothers of American Crime, Chapter Fourteen

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An extended account of his criminal exploits for a criminal syndicate of Midwestern newspapers and radio stations hastened a change of career plans.

The Dummy Drop

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I looked at my now silent cell phone feeling like an idiot. Thad was standing next to me, that shit eating grin plastered on his face like gravy stains on an old shirt."So Genius Jones, what the fuck did he say to you?" asked Thad, sarcasm dripping onto the floor. "She blew…

no-name time of day

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"covered in a sheen of sweat, flowers of salt bloom on my T-shirt"

TOUR GUIDES (Granada Studios 1989)

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Dancers, dunces and brides-to-be

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.

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 …

The Big Faith

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She didn’t want anybody to hear her heaving and crying. She frantically pulled as much toilet paper as possible and stuffed it into her mouth so her sobs would be silenced. Then she slid against the wall next to the toilet and landed on the concrete floor

goddess of personified flesh

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And yes, I may be the goddess of personified flesh, the same little goddess of curled locks, of little sleep, on fire, ablaze. With my sudden weakness, stoppage of breath, pulse cut short, leaving the wrist. And you of stolen, fraudulent face, troub

luncheon on the grass

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I had a dream, I remember, where I am in this painting, Luncheon on the Grass. My dress was thrown off and the picnic basket, filled with bread and fruit, is spilled out upon it, and I am sitting nude on my underclothing, with two gentlemen fully dresse

Sequence Instead of Services on Sunday

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

How We Handle Our Midnights

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He fingered her lighter off the table during a party hoping she would come over and talk. She was just on the other side of the coffee table but the stereo was so loud, belly or dee lite or some other early 90's dance…