Most read stories

Polyester Purgatory

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They line the bar beside me. Talking about themselves and estranged children, while rubbing necks and wrists, searching for the pulse.

Tales from the Golden Age II

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--How's the wriiting business? How about that thing you' was workin' on..."Gawain's Green Nights?" --Yeah, well, I'm kind of off the soft-core...

Sticky Wants to Grab

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I’ll bring the naproxen sodium so we won’t have any problem grabbing things.

Ingrid Bergman Answers the Call

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Out the window is an empty birdbath, dry flaky concrete ring, no birds.

If I’m honest

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We lived in a Holiday Inn trying not to be depressed that life had turned out to be so much like Eastenders, trying not to acknowledge that the thrill we’d got out of each other was the thrill of giving in to the wrong thing. We had more sex than ever b

Dig

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Every morning, the children dig holes for their parents. This is both necessary and beneficial: the kids need to dig and the parents have to be buried.

We Talk in a Roundabout Way

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You are a boy with a birthday bike smiling like our son, standing in a photograph surrounded by other sons, who turn rocks over and over, who keep snakes in plastic bread bags, who find the bones of something wild in the woods. You smile that way still.

sunflower 9

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born to be mistreated by beasts in human shapes

Takin' a Break

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The place turns out to have a really nice ambiance, and while the pasta is only passable—though I ordered, I believe, the cheapest plate on the menu, so maybe I got what I deserved—the background dinner music playing is "Yankee Hotel Foxtrot" by Wilco.

The Greatest Public Works Program

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Hope wakes starving/ in the storm,/ to off and hunt.

Life as a Porno

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It could as well be late night infomercials/ saturating the screen// with medieval looking exercise machines

Not That Kind of Pain

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What kind of pain is it?

Shoelace

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A shoelace should know its place in the world.

Ordinary People

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While I didn’t like to see Courtney swat smokes out of his mouth and admonish him, saying “Cigarettes. Bad. Fire. Bad,” her home was such a beautiful place, with its real wood and two TV and all...

Babies love her

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And so. Like.

AFTER

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You haven't lived until she dances just for you ..

Locust Valley Breakdown

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The specialist had kept what he'd taken out of Sue May. I made an appointment with him and was shown it floating in a jar of clean unguent.

Live Sacrifice

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I don’t name the dog but the fish requires a name. Animals that do not get eaten must be named. The dog is still on the menu.

The Sugar-Free Scent of Today

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Should have washed our hands, we thought after, licking sugar-spit and dirt.

too pissy for poetry

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feeling obligated to write/ is like feeling/ obligated to fuck.

Laces

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I see those shoes and the status they confer, and I know what they cost.

Soon, and for the Rest of Your Life

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. . . and the last thing you’ll smell will be new-cut pine.

maggots are small minutes in the trash i saw them

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maggots are small minutes in the trash i saw them

Gang Bangs, and My First Time, Almost

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Glen always had to be the first to fuck his sister, especially before that big galoot from down the street, whom Cheryl really liked to fuck, otherwise Glen would get violent. She had just started having her periods then, I remember. We were all there one

Why I am Afraid of Spiders

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SPIDERS

Urban Renewal

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Bike shops, vintage shops, after hour bar shops

Falling Man

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My mother pointed to the soaring red towers, each with 600,000 rivets, she said, put in place by men like my Pa, by their sweat and arms as hard as balcony railings.

A Love Poem Written Just for You

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You wanted a love poem written just for you. / Here it is. Don’t look askance.

What's in a Name?

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[CAUTION: THIS CAN CONTAINS THE CAFFEINE EQUIVALENT OF THREE CUPS OF COFFEE. PEOPLE WHO ARE ELDERLY, PREGNANT, OR SENSITIVE TO CAFFEINE SHOULD NOT CONSUME THIS BEVERAGE!]

The Grape

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I would be reduced to begging on the streets and hoping for a sign of her in soup lines.