Most read stories

our measured treads

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—and the god presiding over all / a four-faced, double-Janused clock / its equal seconds clickt away / ticking us our steps and breaths . . .

ice on the bottom of the moon

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I saw ice on the bottom of the moon last night, and I always thought I knew what it meant to go without, but this is something else again. To be without you this long is exhausting, it could wither the soul to go on like this. There’s this head hanging,

Friends Love

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She darted out of her shadow, deftly she maneuvers through the tables and chairs and their eyes follow her.

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…

Toy

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In the store, multi-color kites dance along the ceiling. And in the costume aisle, a young mother shows her daughter how to tie her shoe. “Bunny ears, around the corner…” Glass animals shine in rows on high shelves. A boy examines lengths…

Zombie & Zombie, Attorneys at Law

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“Are there really, truly zombies in Haiti?” “Bien sur,” he said. He had even seen them: affectless men and women with a deathlike pallor, high nasal voices, and the characteristic drooping at the chin.

Cloudstopper (poem)

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She was Clementine Cropper and didn't you know She's the one you remember when there's talk of the blow.

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.

Swallowed Gulped Engulfed

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Last night the thesaurus exploded. Don’t ask how. It just did. Exploded. Burst. Blew up. Flew into pieces. Discharged.

the animal that's in me

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If I can’t lure you with this animal that’s in me, what can? I want to know. With this pain that was privately held for so long? That was acquainted with the fellowship of hell? I sang, I cried out when I was away from you, even while tossing and twitch

In Survival Bid, DAR Tries Fajitas 'n 'Ritas

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The DAR Recruiting Party included a martini bar, an eclectic mix of music ranging from Devo to Lawrence Welk, and “quoits,” a Colonial ring-toss game that newcomers play to win membership discounts and Talbots gift certificates.

Valentine

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XO

Professor _________

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"First we’ll get a good workout at the discotheque where my lady friend works. Don’t worry, she’s already arranged for a friend of hers to attend so you won’t have to suffer the indignity of being a third wheel."

Alex

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When Alex says “sorry” in that barely disguised Canadian accent, we call him an asshole.

TGIF With a Big-Balled, Yogurt-Eating Mouse

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“Why don’t you dump Mr. Fitness here and give one of us a chance?” a mouse says. “I wouldn’t fuck you for practice,” she says sharply.

GIVE FEEDBACK FOR START OF NOVEL

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Hi fellow writersThis is a proposed start of novel.Protagonist is Flor "the urchin"her grandfather, whom she hated when he was alive (and vice versa) is seeing her life from the void, he has died.Please offer any feedback or thoughts you may have, all are appreciated.Here…

The Wave

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Crispcrashingcoldan interlude from youThe pebbles pulled back and forthlike side stepping nailswhite frothan interlude from youThe sun likeA camellia for herCrispColddropsflicking on her face.An interludefrom you.

The Great Pandemic Poem 2020

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First you had to have been there Because the air cleared up When the world stopped driving And the plants bloomed Bigger and brighter than we had ever Ever dreamed The sky was just a brilliant, pure Blue Like when God was born Now fo

Cleft-Split Rock

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Walking here with you on these narrow strands

George Santos' Dream

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he dreams of limp victims stepping out of the waves/ water draining from skin and hair

not Baudelaire's “Beauté”

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I charm as any stone-sculpted dream: / men grind themselves to dust on my breasts / in solitude poets spill and spew / enraptured of my adamant clay.

Geographies of Decay

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That morning arrived with the sound of steel pipe hitting the ground

drinking together

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In fact we were all drinking together in banquet halls (on banquet ships) with an epic poet who invented things, made things up, while dying in thorough dissipation. Washed to shore, our souls with our lives, our shadows. And storms swept them away

almost

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The only time Terry and I came close to fucking, when she was still underage, I mean, was once when I went to see her at somebody’s apartment where she was baby-sitting. She invited me over to have pizza, I think. Of course, I brought beer. And we start

How the Sixties Ended, a new echapbook online

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www.echapbook.com/fiction/ratch

My Yoko Ono

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When one hears the siren call of artsy high school love, there’s not much one can do except go ahead and crash on the rocks, sending incense sticks and candles flying.

Jimbo’s Wish

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growing up fumbling for excuses your fingers, clumsy littlepads of flesh you don't recognize a scatter plot of acnethat won't erase by mirrorwhy this scene doesn't workkissing the detachable lips of bobby-soxed methodgirlswho keep…

Nuptial Indemnity

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She had a body like an upside-down viola da gamba without the sound holes, frets or strings. Full at the top, narrowing at the waist, slender legs where the neck should have been.

In Plastic

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I'm more ash now than cigar.

Music in Berkeley

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There I saw a woman with dyed long red hair Dressed all in furs and a short tight skirt Way too young for her age And she was banging a tampon on her leg At the performance of Ramblin Jack Eliot And no one got up to throw red wine on her Ful