Most read stories

Letters from the Asylum (1)

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I'll be honest, and tell you that I am in a bad way. The weather is very hot up here, extremely so, almost hellish.

Tyler is learning about girls.

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Tyler has a Mars bar in his jeans pocket. It’s warm and soft. He tries to insert it.

Granny's Reform School Weekend Intensive Workshop, Session One

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Being a grandparent is most joyous when deliberately subversive.

With Ariel in Their Hands

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Sylvia Plath killed herself while her children slept upstairs, breakfast ready at their doors. Anne Sexton wanted to do it, but Sylvia got there first, making Anne just a little less remarkable, although she tried often enough, her death like a song put on repeat. …

Five Ways to Say “F*ck Off!” In Our Post-Modern Era

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“Honey, honey.” He tried to take her hand but she pulled away. “This is about the cup. Don't make it about us.”

A Midsummer's Nightmare

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"So, is this the datgum exit?" "Grumphfr exit fregerrock." (This response means either yes, it is, I told you that ten miles ago, or, no it's not, I told you that ten miles ago, depending if it’s the right exit or not.)

COYOTE BAIT

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Light was always fucking with you in LA, especially in the afternoon where it possessed a golden hue that could knock you over if you weren’t careful. Its beauty reminded you of what you lacked.

Fifi Climbs To the Top!

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Fifi is one piece of work, from the Ann Coulter Tits-And-Ass Rattlesnake School Of Broadcasting Venom And Bullshit Like Goebbels...

Oh, Danny Boy

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I wore a padded bra. Proud of my tits. D. ordered a Bloody May, I had a vodka tonic. After the second drink I slipped out into the fog, and smoked a little weed. I could see Long Island College Hospital across the street. To my right, the BQE rose up

Dancers: Summer '69

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The locals cut stone in quarries, built elevators at the Cummins plant in Columbus, or brewed shine back in the hills between Bean Blossom and Gnaw Bone.

The Philosophers' Problems

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The day the thinking factory imploded everyone for miles knew there was a problem. The sound of the walls crumbling in upon themselves was heard for miles, or perhaps it wasn't.

too pissy for poetry

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

Stories from the War

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He didn’t know how to tell his story. It wasn’t an easy story to tell. There certainly was a clear beginning, but it didn’t make much sense to start at the beginning. There was no way to end the story either; the ending seemed to last forever.

2 Little Paragraphs About Writing

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I write in the morning when the world is bendy.

How to travel with your Demons (5)

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She believes that this started with a phone call when she walked out of the deli yesterday. She believes that it started when it was snowing this morning in Brooklyn, waiting for her car to arrive, but the truth is, this journey began a long time ago.

Labor Policy

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The City Council supports this policy and, by necessity, ranks human slavery very low on the list of the city’s woes.

Royal Coachman

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" trout hovered in a sun-dappled pool"

Michael & The Reaper

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That sound. Bone against bone. Skin across skin. Blood fraying into the unknown dark. He loved that sound.

Somewhere

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...but still, when she whispers that going out now might put her in the mood later he unties from his mooring and sets them both drifting toward the gin-splintered latitudes

The tuner

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yielding wood song

Saint Fred Rogers

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I am remembering this day for all days. Remembering. All days. Always. This is the day you threw the TV out the upstairs window. I'm remembering. Always. This is the day that started with you shaking the toaster over me so all the crumbs fell out.…

A mostly true story about the TI-83

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And the only time the TI-83 sees the light of day is when I'm rectifying my debit card purchases at such places as Kmart, Office Depot, Walmart, and Office Max, to make sure everything comes out even and good and perfect, a skill never learned in Trysics,

Where You Lay Your Dreams

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In all my marriage stories, I am both victim and hero.

Serial Killer

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Once Mom finally came to terms with the fact that my brother was gay, she became convinced he was a serial killer. “He has all the signs,” she told me as she trimmed my hair. “Signs?” I asked, watching her in the…

Refill Please

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“Hello, this is Natalie Silverman, I’ve been tying to get my prescription filled for over a week. ... Maybe you recall, you did my brain surgery last spring? I’m sorry that there’s still a balance of over eight thousand dollars. I hope you don’t hold tha

Chocolate Dog

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My ghost has already been places I'll never see.

Animus and Vitriol

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At some point, we will have to shoot them/ through the eyes and skull and heart

Dinner at La Maison Bouche

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The knife that precedes the bigger knife that precedes the spoon that precedes the flat fork, with stuff like that I'm all butterfingers, & even though he's never been to Italy except once to shoot a gun when the world was a great big jumble, he remembers all…

Defender

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He had what was commonly referred to in junior high as the ‘bullshit mustache’.

This Is Why I Loved You

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Your opal eyesYour sea-blue eyesYour sky-blue eyesYour ice-blue eyesYour gray-blue eyes, your periwinklesYour hazel eyesYour violet eyes(almond-shaped and almost cubist)Your indigo eyesYour topaz eyes, your sunkissed lashesYour turtle-sundae eyes.I loved your black shiny…