Most read stories

Josephine Skinny Jeans: Chapter 1

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Lee found a ship’s figurehead in a dumpster behind some shitty Indian restaurant last night.

The Stoplight

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We agreed I would go back up to the cabin for another bottle.

'The Good Life' Not by Bud Smith

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I'm trying to read a Poetry in Motion poem on there wall of a crowded electric train

Why Mr. Doss Had To Die

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He held my little hand in his and guided it through the dirt.

Summertime City

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Columbus Avenue, I’m the tense union of poor city rich city/ gentrification.

Rats

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He tried to call on his break but she didn’t answer. He imagined her on the floor, sobbing, like she’d been the other day. The grey rat would have chewed through a plug-in or some wires and started a fire. She would be ashes, a blackened corpse, reeki

Crystal Tips

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by the time he's moves onto knives, she has appeared in next door's window: sliver of nut-pale belly, fingers wet with suds, nails painted bright as glitterballs.

Fractured Memories of Hope

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May as well have lived two lives, he thinks: one before memory and one after. And how can you remember someone else's life? You can't. After forty years of living, he realizes that there's no way of knowing what his own eyes have witnessed.

Rain

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I am under the rain. Under. The. Rain.The rain comes after me. Beats me. I wait for the boom of thunder, fork of lightning. In the rain, I am afraid. In the rain, I don't know where I am going. In the rain, I am fucking ridiculous.I try to outrun the rain. My shoes sink…

Underwhelmed

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fifteen together with a little streetart slamtrick

You'll Have To Come Out Because I Won't Let You In

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the pollen of your kisses and the shouts of your love shaking the sky

A Blow to the Possible

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Tombstones are only granite symbols of a man’s life, Gus thought as he changed lanes. Children, they were the ultimate epitaph.

Wind Drinks Time Like Wine

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but let's stop and take another look at things could it be through our closed eyes that we didn't really know what we were talking about that there never was a surprise

Specimen Subterranean: A Review

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. . . the greater length of the so-called “Montebaldi Corridor” can still be walked without the least exposure to direct sunlight as long as the traveler is not active from 9 am to 3 pm local time.

Meaningless conversations

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“I wanted coffee, not art. That’s why I came here, and the coffee here isn’t even that good. We should have gone to the place across town, their lattes are the best.” “How do you determine the best coffee? Do you think they have judges that go from sto

Settling

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But she knew what she would find. She knew it all the moment she felt the sticky fingerprints behind the slat of her old oak slay bed. The fingerprints that would only be left from a person grabbing it from behind their head. The fingerprints that she

The First Soliloquy of the Interior Zombie

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But do come close enough for me to hear.

1999, what I wanted

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Last night in the shower, I felt only vaguely aware that something in me had changed.

Unkilled Jeff

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"Oh — what is this 'work' thing the philosophers speak of" sort of thing.

The Mitzvah

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There were only two students in the sculpture class: an 86 year-old Jewish woman and myself.

Peacemaker

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He had the cannonball head of Hemingway, the stump neck, sloping shoulders and barrel chest.

Dairy Queen Lust

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I, personally, just had no interest in having some pimply-faced moron stick his tongue down my throat.

REJECTED

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Your specific request that I never submit to you again; ever, is cause for puzzlement, yet strangely motivating.

Ethics

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I was good-looking, marketable and ambitious. And that never hurt anyone cracking it big ...

Bird-Watching

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I didn’t understand, you said with a hoot, that it was hard to get hard when my ass was soft.

Écriture de la chatte

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YKK is a zipper manufacturer whose initials stand for Yoshida Kōgyō Kabushikigaisha. A boy told me (and I believed as a child) that YKK was my name in code.

Not Wanting to Write

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I don't want / to write about the body indulged, desires / denied, tortures invented, pleasures innate

After Detox

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When detox-man drives away, the windows down, the radio playing on the classic rock station (The Eagles), he thinks about moving out of town.

Why They Cried: Roy

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“Where did it go? You don’t know do you?” he teased the dogs as he adjusted the bottle rocket he had twisted into the ground at his feet, trying to find the optimal path.

The Clique

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On the other side of the world the Moon spun on its way.