Most read stories

Faggot

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In study hall Brandon sat like a little faggot so I said “Hey faggot.”“That's right, faggot. Don't look at me. I don't like faggots looking at me. I don't want their faggot eyes on me, faggot.”Bell rang and he walked like a faggot and held his books…

Unseen (a Five-Pointed Star with Four Streaming Lights Coming Out of Its Back Like Mutable Feathers)

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What you see us doing here is not so much, andall we are not being there isn't either. Our kissing mouths may not always be singing, but we are constantly praying for you, and for more rain or less rain, rivers as the situation warrants. Don't…

Gerade rechts zum Volkszimmer

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So, we are all healthy but suffering financially, not equally so, and the tendency to suffer financially has been caused by humbling ourselves to particular men. We take a quiz in moral values, phrased as a party game.

Unwanted Stories: A Public Service Advisory

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Unfinished, deeply flawed stories require the kind of handling you see in movies where a Virus That Will Doom Mankind is disposed of by scientists in hazmat suits.

The Mouse and the Cat: A Beast Fable

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Pussy’s eyes narrowed, her dark, luxurious fur quivering on her back. “How can you say such a thing! It’s not true.”

Finger Weaving A Voyageur Sash

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Night's air awhirl, the sky shoots fireflies. Sometimes, she bleeds black arrows in her dreams.

The Bob Fosse Dream

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----- Original Message ----- From :< brokengopher@hotmail.com> to: Sent: Friday, January 19, 2007 9:15 PM Subject: The Bob Fosse Dream Dawn, Last night I had this dream that I was going through Bob Fosse's things. NowI don't know…

A Manual for Readers

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The story will starve. It will crawl up your throat to get the cracker.

The Shop Girl

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Just a little shop girl in for the summer. Working on a typewriter. Barely knowing where the keys were. That was her. She was terrible at it. He was in a suit. He looked short, and thin, but something about him was captivating. He was in his own way hands

1987, What I wanted

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I wanted to watch, for as long as I could, until my innocence, like balloons, disappeared from view.

Falcon Street

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Marcy is two years older and got her period the summer before me. She thinks she’s a professor of everything, but she’s my best friend so I don’t say she’s being stupid or that her tangerine lipstick is smeared across her front teeth.

You, the Correct Other, the One I am Looking For

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You, the correct Other, the one I am looking for, you have exacting standards concerning where things must go.

Wild Dreams of Reality, 4

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It was days before Parker and I could even get up the nerve to look in each others' direction at the cafe. We kept trying to avoid the other's glance. But after a time things began to soften between us. I could sense it the day the tension began to eas

Samosely

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If you’re not dead yet, you’ll die of something.

The Paprika Ewer

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Valeria never whistled. Nor did she approve of people who did. One thing she had learned in her sixty-seven years was that people who whistled were crass. Butchers whistled. So did peasants.

The Apostate

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A crone dressed in black pours liquid from a bottle onto the egg. Whiskey. Gasp! The egg cooks before our eyes!

Almighty Pink Slip

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I fired God today. He wasn't showing up for work, slept through meetings, wrote ambiguous memos and killed too many innocents. Things just weren't working out.

I’m tired of being timid.

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“Later,” I say to the frisky crickets, verbal cash of the eggnog spa, spot of gum…

Passing Past

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No one means to go that way, on an errand to the mall....

Fall Of The Twin Towers

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Sitting at an outside table at the Bassett Café on West Broadway, I remember, in the background always the Twin Towers behind me in the photographs from that time And the sparrows in New York, bolder than anywhere working over the scrap

A Journey Within A Journey

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Cousin Rudy pulled up a cod / out of season / we were rigged for haddock, / it was dressed for the weather

Trouble

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Sometimes he made us punch pillows. "Harder!" the shrink would yell.

Check

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When Quince came rolling up into my front yard that morning, we were up to our neck in August, staring down a seventh-grade year that had crept perilously close when we weren’t looking. I’m thirty-five years clear of it now, and I can still sense Texas on

Wild Dreams of Reality, 6

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The diner was half filled with the loose ends of humanity that stayed up until five in the morning. We picked a booth by the window. The light in the diner was a dingy yellow, and the seats were that lobster-red vinyl that could only have been installe

I Wrote a Book

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About halfway through reading some book that was supposed to be some really deep shit, I decided to write my own book instead.

Home in Biloxi

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Her father stuffed years worth of stories into the phone, a sort of begging: how the new dog rode in the golf cart and retrieved lost Pinnacles; how the garage’s rent was too expensive; how the doctor gave him new pills and how he had lost weight and cu

A Letter to Saint Francis de Sales – Patron Saint for Writers

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I've been struck with a bout of writer's block, struggling to get pen to page or finger to keyboard....So I make paper airplanes.

Hot Dish

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Millie was a good woman, Bobby said. A good Christian woman. Well, I said, you can’t hold that against her.

Dealing with Sudden Melancholy

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Someone who I know only via Facebook and a writer site we both belong to posted a picture of a 12 week old fetus in the palm of a human hand. The message was anti-abortion. You know--how can you consider killing this baby? And the picture was of a tiny, tiny…

The Trials

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In reenactments of the pressing to death of Giles Corey, Walter’s friends stacked pillows onto his chest while he defied his inquisitors.