Most read stories

Boston Artists Fight Gentrification, One SUV at a Time

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"I'm dreading it," says Kati Rivers, a visual artist who has lived in the Fort Point Channel district. "A bunch of fat suburbanites driving up rents and crowding creative people out of the little cafes and bistros."

The Song Left in Me

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The sky’s on fire with existence When I’m around you Your wandering kisses enter my soul But your quiet beauty may be What really carries you It is like Finding and touching the Pearl of existence To be near you Was that your tattoo

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

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

The Blood of Giants

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Everything sensed is a drop of experience in the cosmos. Writing brings on the rain.

Black Wheat, 3

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(it) looks out at the world from behind a film (it) does not participate (it) is slow to love . . . There is the image And they say they are in the world . . . Blood does not shake their hearts They lie and take your s

notes from a dream

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Sorry to disturb. Have you seen God in here?No, not of lately, no. Shit.Why, is it urgent?Kind of. Would a cup of tea be of any help?Always. Man in the living room goes in the kitchen, space and time suddenly shift, man in dream does not know where he is, man…

Late Afternoon in the Universe

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In the evening when the sun sinks low and the baths gets drawna tall glass of milk sits slowly spoiling and sweating on the cracked white window sill. And the kids walk across the grass.The birds send out their last farewell notes They sail on the infinite breath of…

How the Sixties Ended, a new echapbook online

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www.echapbook.com/fiction/ratch

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

Nine Months on the Picket Line

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It has been more than three decades since I returned to work from a noon union meeting to find myself, along with about twenty others, locked out of the printing plant where we worked.

The Nude Pianist: A Novel: Chapter 57

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"Ben! Ben!" yelled Monique. "Did you hear me?"

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…

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…

Don't Know What's Gotten Into You, Young Man

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I remember one of my old high school intellectual friends introduced me to what he called a real wild blond girl named Sally or Marnie or something that summer of 1964. She was tall and blond and thin and looked like a model. Boys were usually afraid to

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.

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…

gravelortian part 11

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It's easier to sleep when the alarms don't go off

(One Hundred Minus Ninety Equals) Ten Jetpacks for the Lonely

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1. And so, another top heavy day within the sworn to camp enemies of a purely human musical swamp, who want only to own the essences of that ancient sweet fragrance, like all the others, and sell it back to us at a tidy profit, which…

To an Unlikely Muse

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These frail things, swimming to shore, heads barely above the foam.

A Paris

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Maisie Dear

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Maisie dear, I can't forget her-- I only wish her poems were better.

My Moon's Famously Caught

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behind your one perfectly showcased yet irreplaceable earlobe, like a still inflated island-- in order to float away on any slight rogue gust of gregarious wind-- seedling tool kit and so I mistakenly thought I'd just …

Salome's Dance

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Salome said she wanted the head of John the Baptist on a platter, adding the latter touch of finery for reasons all her own.

Dutch Stake

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The Trust Fund editors said they are leaving Germany. They have been there while I have stayed home to tend American refugees.

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…

Post-Mortem/Petites Morts

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I have things that I should do but I will lie abed with you in homage to our deaths last night.

Uffdah! (rise to a standing position) Oy veh! (settle to a seated position)

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Cameron Diaz

re-homed

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aquatic, free-swimming or earth-bound

Spiral

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When collapse is a wave that curls the floor under itself I give myself to it