Most read stories

Three Micros

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The Cheese Maker's Son; The Pretenders; Train Whistles in the Wintertime

Gloss

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Follow my finger up the canyon wall, past the Chevy wedged into its own ferocious orbit. It was that innocent...

Slow Train

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In grief, I'd ride a slow train there with you, / one hand in yours and one hand on the rail,

We Don't Need No Education

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“There’s an ill energy that emanates from your precise heart that I find attractive”

Turning Thirty

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It was a year of red, white, and blue bell bottoms, chokers, and mini-skirts. It was not a decade of pink stretch pants, pink sweatshirts, and pink snowsuits.

Crown-of-thorns

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It's supposed to resemble the sea bed. These fish have never seen the outside of an aquarium and even if they had, they are reef fish, they'd probably get the bends and die if they went to the bottom of the ocean where the chances of them finding a cerami

Love Story

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You longed to rip off her butterfly wings and watch her scream in agony. You ached to carve the steel from her eyes.

Flooding the Memory River

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His movements were slowed by the metaphysical force of his own passing recollections, and he brushed from his face the silt he'd distrurbed on this forced descent.

Let me tell you one last story

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Let’s be honest, you were cheating on your girlfriend, and I would’ve slept with anyone

My Period Blood.

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[CAUTION: IF YOU ARE UNDULY "FIXATED" ON GOD, AMERICA, MOM, APPLE PIE, AND/OR BASEBALL ... YOU MAY WANT TO AVERT YOUR EYES!]

Morir Soñando

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While Erik rubs my back, I fall asleep. I'm not lying on my bed in Florida - I'm face down on the pavement outside Brooklyn Pharmacy. And it's not Erik's hand smoothing oil of cassis into my skin, but that Officer Green's meaty one gripping me . . .

Degree Zero, My Love

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So we waited for it to get dark. I smelled her there beside me against the tree, and fell asleep and dreamed of an unbombed stone church whose steeple was so high it pierced the clouds. It's time, came a voice from one of the back pews. “It's…

The Sad Giraffe Demographic

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...there’s one thing we’ve found, an untapped demographic.

How I Invented the Designer Jean in 1968 (Memoir)

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Before I was 18 years old, in my small home town of Bridgewater, Nova Scotia, Canada, I invented the designer jean...

Friendship Pins

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There were a lot of advantages to having shoelaces.

The Zilch Belches Out Its Own National Anthem To the Trendy Crowds

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" Not a day goes by/ that isn't stabbed with common sorrow"--Maurice Manning Crazy's alright by me if it's a harmless plea for some little sanity, or unavoidable by birth but it just won't do for tricks. Like say I go over there right…

I Confess to God in the Shower

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During fifth grade, I was called / closeted queer and tall faggot.

1993, What I Wanted

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Two-way conversation with God.

Siam

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Our city is really two cities, conjoined. One lives during the day, the other at night. Those who live and breathe daytime air call the city by one name, a name which evokes the relative newness of the place, a name with words just barely invented.…

Hemingway for Gloria

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He disliked intrusion and very specifically innocuous intrusion, nice guys, one might say, who tried to be near him to learn something from him or who admired him but who, as in that passage, came merely to disturb his work.

We Walk by Night

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Walking those damned dogs is a pain… a PAIN every night. If it’s not urban skunks, it’s Mormons on bikes… the bastards

Metaviews at Metazen

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This is self-reflection or self-reflexive writing. Candor but not verse. That is what I write: not-verse. On occasion I write a poem though rarely an occasional poem. Instead of calling it non-fiction we could call it non-verse.

What Noah Joad Was Thinking When They Left Him Behind

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Going to catch Ma a fish. Won't be special like Tom coming home. But she won't have to feed it. She can eat it.

Ten Minutes, That's It

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They tell me I’m crazy. I say I’m just keeping up.

The Vorpal Blade

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Pow! I shoot him through his jelly donut.

Cat People #9: Tales of Manhattan

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She'd make a great catch in the rain. Because in the rain nothing moves. No cat girl of deep shade eyeliner. No saint of dark corners.

The Wreck of Me

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“You’re a hard habit to break,” I said. My tongue was flaring. Flirting with nurses was my father’s thing.

Raw Salt

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It was Gatlinburg in mid July

December 1999

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... and you can’t balance your checkbook or divide a three-way bill in a restaurant but you can still recite all the sixteen ways of SHAUN CASSIDY TELLS: 16 WAYS TO TURN ME ON!

Plato's Cave

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Mick Jagger and I strolled rue Gabrielle in Montmartre. Our conversation spread from apples to shellfish. We stopped for some oysters. Do you remember a time when books were venerated, I asked? I remember a time, he said, when rock and roll was a fetus in the tank of…