Most read stories

Cocktail Hour

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The bullet went past his right ear and a little star appeared, twinkling in the mirror, a small hole in its middle, before the boom of the shot filled up the bar. He put his straight up Grey Goose martini down on the bar hard enough so th

Now We're Getting Somewhere

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Woman bites into pearl, finds baby oyster. Woman bites baby oyster, finds baby pearl. Woman blows on baby pearl, it begins to grow. Woman gets excited. Now we’re getting somewhere, she says.

Where Has All the Laughter Gone?

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The despair that comes and goes is here again I saw a woman who was holding herself As she walked past, as if a fire were about to Lunge out of her parts She was in such great need of being held The despair that comes and goes is here again

Old Soul

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She’s an old soul who was scattered to the winds like a thousand butterflies and a moth She has no center and flits from event to event and can’t miss out on a thing, because crikey, what if she missed something important? And the m

In Which Lovers Separate, As Always

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We used to find ourselves watching a World War II documentary, but from the periphery of our vision; because our tongues would be swishing against each other, and we’d be breathing each other’s wind; and we wouldn’t be as in to it as we used to but we wou

Still

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I wanted only to be still, to become a rustle for a moment of papery fall leaves sighing past one another on their way to the funeral pyre in the front lawn, sweetly fragrant with the scent of death and inevitable decline, fearless in their annihilation, incandescent…

Second Steps

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The train station offers a pleasant atmosphere, though it exists as an in between place. People only come here to go somewhere else.

Jon Bon Joviettes: A Love Letter to the Bistro

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"Oh, sit on my face oh won't you? Your velvety wetness would provide a nice counterpoint to the upholstery of the sofa-matching easy chair, crummy but that's the charm of this hipster-ironic dive playing 80's crap so I have to cram your music in my…

Three Eights

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He fingered his remaining chips and the usual nervousness tingled at his spine.

Event Particle (8)

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Forgetting fractures her body into a vast flower of fragments

For Seven Days

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The fluorescents above a constant hum. A hymn. The child lay on the bed as the parents worriedly hovered. Fretted and dreaded. Tubes and wires led from the broken body to machines and computers that fed and cataloged every minute detail occurring in the collapsing system.…

Woody met Louise

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Times were tough. They met out on the right-of-way on Highway 61 heading south, each trying to hitch a ride to New Orleans where they might find work. Albert walked up to her lugging a saxophone in a scuffed up case. Mamie had old cloth suitcase. After handshake bona fides…

The Runaway Train

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Me? I was a runaway.

Wait room

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It was Saturday morning."The coffee maker is not ready yet," said one of the old men. Like the present company, his form was swollen with mismatched layers of cold weather wear.It was a white room with a dozen men, three couches, and a large screen television flickering…

I will miss you

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I will miss you, sure, let it be known. The memory, and the dream, both. That familiar smell of Old Spice when someone wearing it comes near. And the smell of Coppertone Suntan Lotion on the beaches of our youth in Chicago. And the pressure of your fing

A Small White Cloud

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Has anyone reached inside your eyes lately? Has anyone searched for your soul as it floated near the ceiling of the past? Has anyone told you they needed you to touch them, to lie down beside them and breathe, just breathe, and live wherever it is that ma

Why Is This Woman Smiling?

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I was at the doctor’s office They had a poster of the Mona Lisa and the caption underneath it read: “Why is this woman smiling?” Well, it wasn’t because she was over 50 and had yearly mammograms It was because she was 20 something

otherwise, chaos!

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The tongue touches the lip, looking inward, remembering. The head nodding yes. Staring directly at the memory like an animal, while the crowds pass by, and occasional phrases materialize out of the air. We live and love and create. Yes we do. Otherwise,

The Transportation of Hens

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Sixteen hundred hens / suffocated / during the collection

Dateline: Dumbass

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Take a ride past Larry Crane’s 'Jackpot!' recording studio — right here! in the neighborhood! where Sleater-Kinney recorded 'One Beat' and Elliott Smith 'either/or' and Sarah Dougher 'The Walls Ablaze!' woo hoo! — and the kids are singing karaoke.

Cut His Finger Playing Air Guitar

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How long to make something pretty?

He's Grieved Long Enough

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My stepmother called me an amoral virgin during our latest "disagreement."

Cottontail Morning

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A murder of bunnies nibble the St. Augustine,

give me a real moment with a living god and I'll go all the way

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I remember, when I was selling real estate, how you could always tell when there'd been a divorce. One room was conspicuously left emptied of its contents, and these rooms were never swept or tidied. Instead they were left just as they were when the par

For You, For Me

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...mark every buoy...

Everyone... out

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The room is cold, like an icy bath. Enough to make Earl's testicles shrivel up in fear. He could hear the angry children outside act out a primeval play, where it sounded like bones were being slammed into rocks with clumsy small hands. The edge of the table…

The Talking Pillow

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Once, To a crash slumber on my bed, so late, I learned my pillow could communicate. As I lay my head of lead at the head of the bed, My talking pillow said, "Let me be the foundations for the constructions of your dreams...

cheap idol of possession

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And how the stars in your eyes exploited you. And the pollen-bearing moon shows its sex, and the years open their cards and splay them out on the table for all to see. And you come home from all the nipples of your Trojan Wars like Ulysses, and lie down

Puppet ABC - 1

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I am not a Road Scholar, ladies & gentlemen, though I’ve been On the Road more than once. Do not mistake me for a bum. I am not a hobo, homeless or otherwise, in this life or any other, I am not a bum, I insist. But I d

Relationship Status

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I would use your towel,