Most read stories

Helen O., Grand Central, 1959

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No snippet to see, here. The piece is so short a snippet would be the whole thing.

A Hole In The Bucket

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In 1978, a computer program became privy to my grandmother's most secret thoughts.

Grand Fury

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

Bus

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You can’t take a chandelier on an emergency dash across a nuclear desert.

Comes After Cato

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When they called him down there to the morgue to identify the body, he drove behind the wheel of his truck like some steady maniac on a long haul. The Ford 150 cried out for new shocks, but that hardly mattered. Mud plastered side panels and…

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.

Poets Who Thrum

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Poets who thrum jirble and thwack Poets who thrum eat quorn with raw swamms Poets who thrum are eristic (not shambolic) Poets who thrum deliciate unto kench when they freck

Take our marriage and replace it with blue cheese dressing,

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the brand we like best and buy whether it's on sale or not. Surely there is another blue cheese dressing that is sold, possibly in San Francisco and made in a Berkeley basement by hippies who scrape together all of their change twice a year and buy cheese from an ancient…

Miracle Bra for my behind

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Do you want an ass mi Nina Bonita? I buy you jeans that work like a Miracle Bra for your behind.

The Oaten Hands

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His hands were like that when he was born. No one really understood why. Neither of his parents had any body parts made of oats. Neither of them had even eaten any oats the morning the conception took place. But sure enough, when Edwin MacGrain was born o

"Fancy Me"

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He stopped the shower and recounted his life, now Kin-less and plain.

First Kiss With Rubber

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Julie studied her brush, plucking a strand of hair from it. She looked up and smiled. "My mother thought you were a peeper."

The Invasion Of Iraq

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The U.S. blasted into Iraq like gangbangers, baby! All that Shock and Awe shit... Zeep, excitement rekindled within him, hired three chippies, Foxy, Loxy, and Roxy, and partied! He managed between…

Hemingway for Gloria

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He disliked intrusion and very specifically innocuous intrusion, nice guys, one might say, who tried to be near him to learn something from him or who admired him but who, as in that passage, came merely to disturb his work.

Tales from the Golden Age II

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--How's the wriiting business? How about that thing you' was workin' on..."Gawain's Green Nights?" --Yeah, well, I'm kind of off the soft-core...

Peripheral Anthropomorphism and the Fall of Troy

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For Hector it was animals. Rats, dogs, fish, and quite often horses – sometimes even lions. But for Achilles, it was always dead bodies.

~elephant ink~

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one numberless character, an army of rants marching one by one, sand by sand, we move mountains this way…

What the Dark Matter Says

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There can be no convergence./ There is only the talking that talks about/ an angle of sight nothing else can share.

Skype's Not for Losers. Really.

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Personal Trenches

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The headlines were my source of information and contact. Four Soldiers Killed in Baghdad read one. Seven Ambushed in Fallujah. I’d read them, look for his name, and maybe clip it out. It put me there; put me in touch with him.

Woman

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When you move to the music of a woman

Smashed Idol

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He was the kind of man that I would rather have declawed than date, and then leave him on a gurney, helpless and anaesthetized. Cliff Eames had made me feel that way since we were teenagers. He would never be helpless. …

Can't You Tell When I Get Lonely?

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“Can't you tell when I get lonely?”, she asks. “No”, I say. It gets awkward because she wants me to know when she gets lonely. I don't give her the attention she wants without realizing it. She moves away and stares at me for…

Butterfly, a novel by Julie O’Yang (excerpt)

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‘So what exactly did you decide?'It was two years later that Sato-san put the question to me. The two of us had been hiding for two bloody years, moving about in the marshes along the river, living off small, skimpy meals. We couldn't turn back to our unit, because Cesaru…

Disorienteering

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At night, on these New England roads, there is no light, no pink sodium-vapor glow, no guideposts.

Time

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Tell Bono I want my seventy bucks back.

When I Became a White Girl

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“Actually, children, none of us will be having birthdays this year,” my father sighed. “Not even me? Why?” asked Charlie. "Son, this is what's known as a ‘one-party democracy."

Falling Out of Bed

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My wife stood in the doorway and talked to the back of my head. “You really should talk to somebody about this,” she said.

Please

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"What I need to wear the ring for," I said to myself, "I already got his last name..."

Moon collar

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I don't think dogs like to die with the pack. The smell of them rotting brings trouble in the wild,