Most read stories

Sociopathic Medicine

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True love may last forever, but the most I've ever gotten out of a lab assistant is two years, five months, three weeks, twelve days, and fifteen hours. And he was the exception.

Arturo + Lourdes, 2005 and 4ever

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Here’s the story as compiled from the scantest of clues: The writing on the back of a stall door in the restroom of a twenty-four hour restaurant under the Gowanus Expressway.

Hag Masses

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Five poets were beheaded that day, their heads rolled off the scaffold to the dirt and faced skywards; the heads were smiling

The Massacre

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The Great Wall of Suburbia

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Old man Hensley was fed up. With everything, he would say, if one was so inclined to ask (which was not advisable). It was his first morning as an official retiree and, if it was…

The Lost Boys

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Every day hurts, just a little, but not enough

The Zen Gunslinger

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On top of the refrigerator is a small wooden box

Noche de las Ranas

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He pushed aside the netting and trained the flashlight on the dripping courtyard. Rivers ran off the wide pinanona leaves, surged through fissures in the crumbling wall.

Haze

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

Grand Fury

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At some point, Spiro thinks, everyone must look like a sniper.

Tuesday, Before Noon

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It came up heads so he is going first. He puts on a condom and gets in

London Fog

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I stumbled out of the Ten Bells pub, still a bit tipsy from the absinthe, but had a clear vision of what I wanted to have happen this night. The air was cold on my rosy cheeks, so I shielded my face…

Brick Walls

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A flash in seven chapters.

Arcana Magi Pure - c.3

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Emi was cheerful and nice towards her classmates. It was like she saw a different person last night. Emi’s pupil-less red eyes frightened her, and the spell that she cast on her, that bump on the head still lingered.

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.

Stage Play in Five Acts of Her: Matinee

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I could have writ­ten her as is with long bushy hair, skinned knees, over­hauls, blue­berry stains on her fin­gers and teeth because she eats them too much. I love her bet­ter this way, blueberry-stained and wild....

John Lennon Slept Here (Or Was It Ringo?)

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Why is the ghost of John Lennon haunting a house in rural Oregon?

Story

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For two days, I bashed out words with grimacing fingers, wrenching images from my whining consciousness – a weak, lumbering, uninspired piece – and now for what?

Limboland

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She was a forward-motion girl. She never bothered to learn to walk as a baby. Instead, she stood up and ran.

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

I Made You . . . (April Fool's Day Challenge)

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You cheat with a stripper--joke I told to your wife. I didn't know that she couldn't take a goof.

Decrucifixion

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

Birds Fly(a chapbook of seven+ poems)

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Birds FlySeven Poemsby Darryl Pricefor Charlotte and Mel, as always"We should insist on joy in spite of everything."--Tom Robbins“I don't need your love. I don't need you to understand. I just need you to listen.”—Perfume Genius1. I Want to Sing to…

Bitterness: Poem

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Standing hard at the windowCold clouds move, slowBlue horizon in the distance—It's just a slice of blue.All this beautyI miss it in the bitterness.I'm consumed by the missingThe emptinessThe unfairnessAlways some unfairness cropping upand capturing joy.Glancing high…

hide the dildos

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her: what are you worried about? me: the dog sitter.

Clay Women

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"... I knew Willie had gone— out the back door or out the side window. I knew he probably slipped over the fence behind my house into Lou C.’s backyard..."

The Death App

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The phone owner pre-writes his or her dying words! The app stores them and releases them at the moment of his death!

Shuffling Deck Chairs on the Titanic

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He said he'd searched in vain for his wife, Mary, before abandoning hope and the ship in one of the last row boats. He was allowed in because of his experience fishing.

Life of the Writer

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I am a romantic writer, true. But what comes after the romance is what fascinates me. A lover dying is the most beautiful scene I want to write. The most beautiful scene I have yet to write.

They Don't Call! They Don't Write! But at Least they Have a Dog Blog

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“I spent the best years of my life raising you, and now that you've grown, I never hear from you.” Sound familiar? That's the “Mom's Lament.” Mothers have been kvetching at their grown-up kids like this since the beginning of…