Most read stories

The TV

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The absence sits on the window sillIt looks like the tree growing in front of itlimbs long and crookedwretched clocktime passes like torn silkShe sits at the mirror looking past thingsHer TV blasts the newsconfront the questionCovid -19 The vaccinationTrump is…

3 Dollar Bills

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At home I cranked the oven and stuffed both pizzas in there and when they were ready I ate every crumb of both pies.

Politicouscous I

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Were the coffee and gas not cheap,/ and in the case of the coffee, good,/ I’d never stop again.

Acedia

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Nothing new this numbing year 'til now-/ a forced recovery of voice through// recollection of the catalogue of regrets,/ disappointments, and the long collapse

The Year in Blogging: More Than Just Sonny Tufts

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1,919 followers in 105 countries come to this site every day looking for breaking news on the number of white kittens promoters are required to provide Mariah Carey at each concert.

The Optimism Of Despair

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He felt sick at heart, as if he'd just been told he'd been fired from a job to which he'd devoted 60 years of his professional life. And for no good reason; the profession no longer existed. It had slipped into obsolescence, like blacksmithing at the beginning of the…

A Little Wine (to put you in the idle reverie)

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Amused yet? It doesn't matter and that doesn't meananything. But eternity in hell is just another knifethey use to keep you looking in the wrong direction. We can have fun. Please don't let them break your heart like that. They do their jobs because they no…

Possible Wildlife (redux)

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This caused a problem when some raccoons, skunks and a fox were found lingering on and around the premises (separately, of course).

You Are Now Leaving Czech Soil

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He leans forward across the cafe table, holding both of her hands, and tries to kiss her on the lips, but she pulls back, making him beg for it. Then she kisses the top of his downturned head. Beg for it he will, and she knows it. Now he

Flash Wk 4: Cartography

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The surveyor began at the mouth of the Klamath and worked his way toward the mining camp. He'd expected to find a trail, but for most of the way he hacked through dense underbrush. The river shrubs clambered into the water, just skimming its surface. There were…

The Finger of Love

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Wasn’t that you Giving me the finger Or was it just A dead ringer For the finger of love? Finger of love Finger of love Did you find someone’s dog do On your doorstep last night Something didn’t smell right In the middle of the night

They Know Better.

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Fat Yasmin and Greg Lane were quite a couple. They held hands a lot. She was a mound of shit. “She had to go…

up to our hips

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This is what we will remember of each other. Right here. Another night where we prepare ourselves, as the full moon rises through the murky blue and smoke-filled sky, where the rose mist simmers above the land. And you are out there, somewhere. Only our

Epistemology (Revised 2019)

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RE: The big stuff: We don’t know RE: The small stuff: Half of what you believe is true but you will never know which half

Existential Weather Report (Election Day 2020)

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Later, at home, on the internet, I assemble fragments of street celebrations from cities one coast to the other. I watch them and listen in the compressed fidelity of computer speakers. How strangely things feel.

The First Day on Snowshoes

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I can hear my heart in this empty field; I feel it burn against the wall of my chest.

Last Night I Dated The Universe

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Last night I dated the universe. What a hottie! I arrived on time and was feeling a bit spacey. Look at me, I said. I'm on time. Yeah, well, I invented time. I made sure you'd be here on time. Cool. Where do you want to go? Doesn't matter. Wherever we go I'm already…

Second Career

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“Just how many different bipeds try to hide their nakedness?” “Only one. And that'd be us, idiot.”, Twinkle responded. “Then, why don't we mind showing certain parts of our bodies?”, she then asked. Twinkle could see it was going to be…

You Couldn't Pay For a Review This Good, But I Did

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I’ve previously tried the old-fashioned route to get my books reviewed, calling up editors, asking friends who work at newspapers and magazines to put in a good word for me, stalking . . . I mean, contacting freelancers.

Perhaps It’d Be Better If This Were In a Sandbox

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I'd been sleeping on a couch. It was the couch of another artist, a friend, the kind of friend who makes you want to think in star patterns that dance across galaxies and warm distant life forms that are impossible to see. This friend made me feel more like…

substance shadow spirit

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ride crests and troughs of ceaseless change, / without delight but without fear, / and once it’s time to leave, then simply go, / without regret, with no unseemly fuss.

The Andy Warhol Experience

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Whenever I go shopping, I am trying my best not to be overwhelmed by an Andy Warhol experience. This is not like your typical Orwellian Big Brother experience, like when enormous Chairman Mao posters appear out of nowhere, keeping an eye

The Sinking Boat of Evolution

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Living dangerously, I left my house with no glasses, no umbrella. I also forgot my straw hat, no purple dye for my gray hair, my map of the world to come,

The Dream to Build a City

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I tried to drain the ocean But only got a waterfall I tried to drain the sky But only got a thunderstorm I got lightning I got rain I had to build a city By blowing on the palm of my hand The sands rose up The dust blew away And all

Lobster's Alive

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Oh, no! the lobster’s still alive staring out at us from the freezer at the fish shop sitting on top of the other dead fish and ice its large claws taped shut with orange rubber bands one eye stalk moving occasionally wonde

the wrap

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a whisper of wind

FALLING MAN

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Steve Kramer was a brilliant young artist on the scene in New York in the 70s when I was starting out as a writer. He built little electronic dioramas displaying stuffed rats in various bizarre settings. Flip the switch and they would get fried in a little rat-sized…

Neverfull

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Neverfull There are still things out there I haven't seen— a mere tadpole blindly clinging to the base of the pond. I reach for every star in the inkwell but none are close enough— even on toes tickling the edge you'll never…

Going Commando

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I have the fear of comedy I have the laughter of war I have the need of a commando To come sack and ransack us Over and over again, O I am a pillow, a rock, an ant A soft Southern deer in the headlights I have the mask of Anonymity Lyi

The View From Cezanne's Studio

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I turned and looked– Sainte-Victoire stood there, a shell against the sea of a sky.