Most read stories

Naked (a translation)

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His body echoed in the mirror/ cracked into distant images

April 2nd: National Have Sex With An Ugly Person Day

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Let's be honest. Ugly people have an uphill battle in this culture. From the time they slide out of their ugly mothers they stand at the plate with two strikes.

Lancelot Meets Goya Meets Cortázar Meets Mowat

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to say that he was doing fine

Soon, and for the Rest of Your Life

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

The Heart Does Not Know What It Cannot Have

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“I take him to see all those sexy movies,” she said, “because it puts the passion back in him. I love what he does to me when we get back home after those movies.”

Oh, Clyde. I must be your Bonnie.

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This is the best kind of crime scene. Spattered like gore from gunshots, I'm left covered in trace evidence.

Real As Your Underwear

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when unicorns took to flight / the poles shifted / the world flooded / and Pangaea busted open like calloused palm

Reverie

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There is a tall and leafy tree in our backyard. Also a bride, a groom, and a chicken.

The Last 3,600 Seconds

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I can feel everything getting closer, the past catching up. All the cunts and cocks and clits I've ever touched. I left them all on the other side of the world, and now they're creeping back to me.

Autumn Offering

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You may gather from me the spring of my youth

Grandma

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It was a subtle change. Jeffrey's grandmother was never graceful. Her figure was like a garbage bag filled with rounded masses of leaves and the unexpected angle of the odd stick, the entire shambling affair draped in soiled and yellowed hand-knit clothing…

Broken Bulbs - Chapter One

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And here I am again. I chew my nails. I tap my foot. I chew my nails. I sweat. I bleed. My nose bleeds. It drips. I drip. I'm dripping through my chair.

Haze

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I slide my hand under the sheets. It’s cool there. An impression. This is where she would be.

Decrucifixion

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"Isn't it time to remove the nails, and put Jesus to rest once and for all," Mary asks.

Rose Petals

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A supermodel, carrying a large Valentine’s box, fell on the ice.

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.

Re: “oo===D---o-}-<,” Fiction Submission

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Fake letter, 55 words.

Time to Rest

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the mighty mountains sighed, and the wide seas heaved

The Illusionist

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All week my crew and I waited for the snuff party. An obscure fete where someone gets killed strictly for the entertainment and viewing pleasure of others. Before you judge us know this, people die every day for no reason at all.

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.

Always Vera

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“The price of everything's gone up,” I say. “But I don't have to buy you chocolate if it's costing too much.” She says nothing and bends her head again, gnarled hands slowly breaking a family-sized chocolate block into pieces.

Ante Meridiem

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Still dipped in night...

to day

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I turn my head. Time starts running.

French Fries

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Tuesdays she worked afternoons at the bookstore, and he’d secretly go, buy a large order, sit in a corner with a newspaper. Fries covered in vinegar, veins of ketchup.

Letter to Neruda

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You have been my woman’s lover now for seven years, ever since your two souls met at La Isla Negra.

My Digital Garden

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This part of her digital garden is not impressive, slightly sloppy, even haphazard. However, her avatar is an attractive woman with good make-up.

Italy, 1990

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She...learned the ways of men, especially foreign men, who eyed her mother even as they passed around pictures of their children, wallet-bound photographs that included their reluctantly smiling wives.

To My First Crush

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But I came back around, after Robert Kennedy got shot, with one hand up your skirt and the other on the gear shift...

Doreen - III

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Male genitals were usually portrayed diminutively in classical art. After forty minutes in a drafty room without cloths on, I was beginning to understand why.

Augustinian Prayer Sonnet

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He kissed her tits and thought of art