Most read stories

The Tertiary Stage (he probably thinks this poem is about him)

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They say his irrational outbursts and insane rantsare the results of untreated syphilis. Well, thatmakes perfect sense to me. I've always thoughtof him as a tessellated spirochete, a narcissistic chancre,festering pustule of a blistered imposthume. And whywouldn't a…

Slydexia for the Unimpaired in Eight Acts

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You tell its approach soon as veal resists both knife and fork, quick neutrinos land in internet ruby climes.

Ripple Effect

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I discovered Ripple (by that fine winemaker Gallo) in a dusty “specials” bin at the back of a liquor store near skid row, off Maxwell Street, downtown Chicago. You may remember me bringing these bottles home with their screw-off caps. We drank tons

The Alarm

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Rain pours through the ceiling and the building's fire alarm sounds repeated bursts of loud abrasive distortion 1 2 3

Twister

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“You know this is your death car.”

This Poem Has No Title

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...Or perhaps it has; It depends which way you look at it. Perhaps the reader may cite laziness As my reason for not titling this Any other than I would have done As now, with such a title As it has, since for some reason I never…

In the Film Room With the Big Guy Upstairs

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It was a stupid thing, but one I'd gotten away with before. My bagel was stuck in the toaster, and I probed a knife down into the slot without unplugging the appliance. BAP!—sparks and smoke, and before I knew it, I was dead.

Pictures of False Hope

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We were busy painting pictures of False Hope on the face of Reality. Tattoos really. But they faded with time. And I now know this: Nostalgia isn’t what it used to be. I saw an older writer in a slouched-down Fedora, gray beard and long sc

RUSSIAN ROULETTE

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“What the hell was that? Is that your take on The Deer Hunter?”

Two Cents a Bale

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“Price has gone up,” Jim said. His head and his body were still, like a deer’s when it hears something. “It’s three cents a bale now.”

Notes from a Quarantine

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EnzymesI enjoy learning about enzymes. In the human body, they're catalysts. They interfere, breaking substances down so they may be sent on their way to accomplish a task. Imagine a cluster of construction workers; shit-talking, cat-calling dames, engaging in mildly (or…

Among the Missing: Family and War

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As Sebald says, I grew up in the shadow of war....

I Bought New Candles

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The candles and my brain flame like a torch

Grand

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The garden grew tomatoes.

suggestive lipstick

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Maybe in some lie you told, your life began making sense. Not mine. But your quiet beauty may be what carries you. We have to both quit eating Couch Potato Chips, and read the book Tender Is the Squid, instead. Your ghosts – they’re so soft and sensitive.

Who's Going To Clip the Toenails of God?

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Who will plume the chicken? Who tend the little flower of the soft person? Who steal the pea out from under the bank while you’re holding it up?

Time

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Time is the / gravy of the bloody roast beef of / emptiness.

Throw Away Society

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And this will be our testament

MS Fragments Retrieved from a Garbage Disposal

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Mrs. Death was walking in mountains where everything around was still. Mr. Death? —in another hemisphere, wandering (last she’d heard) through a vast forest.

Bearded Lamb

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I was bleeding from the soul It took its toll I fell all the way down in a hole I saw some burning coal I didn’t know where the hell I was Or what went wrong As I sang some unholy song Where I did not belong There was a frozen carcas

on Fox River

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We are on Fox River and I am in the dark water swimming naked beside Rick DeMille with my white skin glowing as we come up behind you and Sharon in your dad’s ski boat sitting silent in the water, and I can hear Sharon whimpering, “Oh, Jesus! Jesus!” as

The Silken(revised version)

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tentacles of stringy rains opens up the stage antics for this common February day to the fidgety audience at hand but it appears that they just won't be able to grab on, not this time. The familiar grumpy wind with…

The Page Turner

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Her hands are swift and supple as swallows, bouncing off the keyboard in rapid-fire constellations of notes, because she's playing Bach's Concerto no.1 in D Minor, which is busy and prodigal and all over the place. She is Polina Olegovna Osetinskaya, a beautiful Russian…

A Day at the Fair

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“Furman lost all his money at a clip joint. I'm going to the office to complain.”

Berkeley Stations

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or Hamlet,Great Denmark"No good can come out of this house of Berkeley, not ever, not to strut the great book of the world, or for any other discreet purpose." - the Upanishads "What is guile? Who is this Hamlet? Where smarts wounded Denmark? I need…

Birthday Makeover

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Iris is beside herself with excitement that the most popular girl in her eighth-grade class invited her to join her circle of friends after school. On the sound of the bell, she charges to the door to be the first out of the room and to race to meet Ange

Reunion

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Did we ever walk together long?We walked apart much longer. Are we the same, unsaid, Or more different than you imagined? Are you amazed I still stand, Here and in this room, So brazen to show my lined, scarred face, So bold to live and speak aloud? Can you…

Perfect

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In the cafeteria we have the cheese fries. Sara's favorite. She eats with two fingers, pinching like a crane. Cheese drips and she licks the fingers. She licks the plate. She goes for it. Big Lulu, the cook, calls from the back. “That's what I like to…

Is That a Floating Postcard over There in your Shirt Pocket, or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

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We came wind-milling together ,up and over the blue and yellow stone bluffs, like a couple of empty yet racing nowhere fast plastic grocery bags, catching onto everything and anything in our way, and desperately trying to get free again,…

Now's the Time: Three Women of Jazz Today

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The world of jazz resembles the Elizabethan stage: bare, unadorned sets, little of what is performed is reduced to writing, no, or hardly any women.