Most read stories

On Discerning That a Woman Had a Nose Job Before He Met Her

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The new nose-- I won’t ask how much it cost, but something’s been lost.

Pink Tights, Tu-Tus and Schmaltzy Music

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And then I get a call from a different kind of bar They say you’re drunk on Cosmos and actin’ quite bizarre.

I Can Sacrifice My Self

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The sacrificial tendency is a real ugly one A pound of flesh, because it grows back But gnarled and scarred For you, So you may smile or cry Whatever you need How about an ounce of truth? How about I make a maze And you walk through…

Gaze

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to think of him looking at me / for he to be I and I to be he / it is almost unbearable / to occupy two bodies at once—

cell

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xxx

The Here Here Here Lately

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electron metastasis

We measure all this distance in Longing

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“I’ve decided to make some money by filming some of it, making a film and titling it The Nascar 500. It’s a great money maker and here's the gimmick: instead of the usual porn soundtrack it would be the sounds of stock cars racing around the track.

The Theory Behind the Statue of the Unclothed Horseman

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With his toga thrown over one shoulder because it was so hot out which has led to various and sundry theories of the naked centurions riding on horses in this manner through some unimaginable desert on a long march or even along the banks…

“What will I do if I run out of stories,” she asked?

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You better not come home drunk, you shithead, or you'll be sleeping in the yard!

I Found Myself in Waters

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Unready for the world, we pawned ourselves for a longer lease on youth.

there was a shameful attempt to steal fire and now the vultures always come for my livers and my God I Am sorry

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The Divine and merciful Understanding Calls out to me But let me not speak its name. You are an unworthy hearer And I am a secret-keeper, cunning With keen thoughts and prayers of swift Justice Single is our thought and act And when we pray we know not what it…

Short Blonde, Long Red

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Natalie blushed the vodka with an almost pointless twist of the fruit juice as I fought in my inside jacket pocket for my wallet...

Cosmicatholiconfession

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My sister walked in the room while I read Ginsberg / reciting the lines to Jaweh & Allah Battle to myself /sweating in the heat contour of my ugly body on the bed / the room the stench of rottenhumanasscracksemen

Heirloom

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“Have the tomatoes come in yet?”“Dottie…”Mrs. Dorothea Tilden pointed a trembling finger at Harriet.“You promised me tomatoes, Harry.”Harriet put her hands on her hips, a stance Dorothea knew well. One more sharp word meant fight; two…

Fugue State on the Waterway

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I am so lost in thought as I ride out of the woods that I forget which way I ought to turn, left or right; this can’t be good.

Slightly Down And Off To The Left

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It was just her way. Slightly down and off to the left. Mom never looked anyone in the eye.

The Frogman

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http://www.punchnels.com/fiction/the-frogman/

consolations from Cold Mountain

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not otherwise employed, writing verse,/ line by tenuous line the substance of pulse./ ―but no one collects unemployed verse:/ self-lacerations must yield blood, not ink.

(girls in their summer dresses)

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The life, the burning up that works up our loveliness, hot under the surface that is tempted to show forth its parts after being confined, enclosed, shut in. Beautiful honey-water sliding out of long bleak skies, after all the howling of our legendary you

Trapping for Poetesses

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So many ingenious traps for catching and hamstringing female poets have been invented that it is a rare editor who ever really sees one. H.L. Mencken

Wind Enough in your Sail?

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Don’t think you can play God with me There are enough songs To fill the heavens already I don’t need you Whispering in my ear Gone virile, are you? That’s what they used to say About me too

We're Pieces of God & We've Found Each Other

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The gates going up and down like gigantic windshield wipers to let the existent boxcars pass. We went across these real bumpy railroad tracks into a town so small there wasn’t enough room for the car, so we got out and went ahe

Tonight's Special

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I didn't arrive at the Wicked Spoon every night in the same mood. Some nights I would arrive under the spell of a generous emptiness, what I like to call the euphoria of futility. Not exactly a state of bliss, but a dazed detachment in which everything is so pointlessly…

They Were RICHEY-RICH!!! (Part IV-tham, and FINAL!)

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[.......]

Puppet X, 5

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A man learns too late How small deer laugh It’s true When a man goes mad Ropes come down from the clouds He cannot be sure of anything Anything The way’s uncharmed He thinks someone else’s strange thoughts And it all seems a simple

The Endless Dream of Humanity

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Pigeons are really the souls of what were once beggars in the endless squares of Paris, Venice, or Jerusalem. They are born with the soul of a beggar attached to them. It is stuck beneath their wings. They cannot fly without it, and they ar

Being Generic.

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"Why bother?" Her companion muttered something not dissimilar.

Suspenders

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As soon as I got the suspenders adjusted I felt different. I felt like Wilfred Brimley.

I'm Going Either Way

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Will you join me kneeling in a Homegoods parking lot

Post-Revolutionary Sports Boredom

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It isn’t easy being the #1 Jewish lesbian revolutionary bank robber in America–every Rebecca and Rachel who comes down the pike tries to knock you off.