Most read stories

You Would Not Find Me

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and I saw this man mopping a floor. He did not look like a monk, and he was smiling at something I could not see. You would not find me and I was beautiful. You would not find me and you closed that memory. I thought that was unfair and maybe it…

WHAT I LEARNED IN HEBREW SCHOOL

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There was a big pile of dirt in back, where the little Hebrew School bochurs would play King of the Mountain—tugging, tearing, biting, punching, using whatever weapons they could get their tiny hands on to topple whoever scrambled up the mound first.

Writing Poems

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We bring words together and set them up on blind dates. Watch them build a history together, get married and fight together. Make offspring syllables cradled warm in cribs of punctuation. Phonemes squeezed into existence by two parenthesis. Words…

How the Other Half Lives

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Most of life, it turns out, is pathetic. Very little is funny. We have to generate our own laughter. Canned laughter may have to do. Even if we have to carry the can around our neck like a Saint Bernard or strapped to our hip

"No lights shine out tonight high hung in heaven"

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(From Postcards fom a Railway Station (final poem)) No lights shine out tonight high hung in heaven: And the constellations like a dead man fall. No sight of polar eyes, whose sons are seven, And I stand unthinking and beyond it all I own it all a…

The Sham Wedding

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Mary Jo told me to hire somebody to marry us in a ceremony in the living room up at the house on Fairlawn. This was to take place in two days. Her divorce was final, and she had to get married or else it was all over for her child custody. I guess I was

passing in, passing out

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I hate turnstiles and revolving doors

Dave's Note

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Dave Sharpe silently pulled his desk chair out of its nook that was conveniently placed underneath his desk. He took a deep breath as he slowly took his place in the seat and nudged it into a perfect…

At the Bend in the Road

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I was at the bend in the road thinking of Robert Frost but there was no fork, there was no yellow wood, there wasn’t even a horse to ask me why or what if There was no decision to be made just a thousand tourists from Prague

The Band That Didn't Memorize Christmas Songs

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A man stared out a window, only to see a passing train.

Fireflies Flew Out of the Slice of Life

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In the beginning there was salt God licked the salt and said it was Good. Then there was Light Then Chocolate The rest is just History It’s no great Mystery Oh, and Fireflies Fireflies with Due Dates Flew out of the Slice of Life S

truth be known

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It could be there is a little me, somewhere, truth be known. One time in Laguna Beach I slept with a girl I met at this café, the Jolly Roger, I think, when we went back to my apartment and had unprotected sex. She said she was on the pill, but you neve

Bob the Builder

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The concrete guy’s truck is parked in front of your house. There’s nothing for him to be doing there except your wife.

(melody) floating inside an f

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Like the miserable sledgehammer I am, with no adjective in place to praise your moon, you are a hole well-worn into my favorite rock. I have only been able to reinvent this wronged language, in which being moved by…

Sarah With The Warm Gun

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The north street was always a mean part of Port Neches. Too far up for oil company patrols ...

Another One Night Stand in L.A.

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This girl had burn scars on her body which hurt a little, to be touched, so we had to be real careful, gentle. I turned her over slowly so as not to shatter her. She wanted to be fucked, badly. But only one time. It was enough to be handled again like bef

Dinner at Wendy's

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bodacious Titten.

Kicking Out the Enjambs

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I can be iambic when I want to / be!

Hope Is Not a Political Solution

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Hanging out at the Imaginary Friends Café with all my imaginary friends, poets, itinerant musicians, etc. Writing close to nothing. Can’t finish a thought, so I’m composing a book called “Not Quite Haiku,” which is unfini

the plight continues

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but at least I wasn't drinking as much anymore.

Smite the hindmost of them

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“Hello, I’m Marlene, and this is April,” says the older of two women. Both Marlene and April wear ankle length dresses. The name Hester Prynne flashes through my mind.

Sweet Dream

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you are in Faulkner’s dream -a lost pilgrim in cheap shoes

Memories of the Beach

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The smell of Coppertone Suntan Lotion always brings back memories of the beach. I remember you rubbing it on my stomach and you kept moving lower and lower. I had on a bikini bottom (very daring) and you rubbed your finger all along the rim of it just a

Blue Rage

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His small hands grew unimaginable vitality as he pushed and heaved against the strength of the ocean and it's depths and it's ruthlessness.

Love, your daughter

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You gave me all of the power, and none of the power.

Target practice

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...it didn’t take much to just toss it aside and muster up some fresh bravado.

The beginning of the end

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(...) I know my eyes are shut and I’m on the kitchen floor but I see her and I’m not confused. (...)

sing your swan song

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They had to dress normal, my other boyfriends, be beardless, hairless, everything torn away, plucked, shorn smooth, because it elicited moisture on the tongue (when I was with you.) But I grew bored as the day before I first saw you.

RONNIE AND RACHEL

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Silent defenders of penumbra one

The Imbecilic Utterances (or Why is every man's burden the heaviest?)

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"Come into my face." said Duras famously as she neared death. This is very beautiful. If one takes Duras to speak of something akin to the 'face' as given us by Levinas, and we may display this face here as something like an Husserlian universal…