Most read stories

Martyr

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The everlasting shone through when skirting the tenuous threshold of the two worlds.

Walking

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Who are not here.

Suzanne

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And I watched, from her warm bed, the curtains dancing in the window

a microcosm

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The right is empty, waiting to receive the load like a catcher behind home plate.

Bogdan

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He was a tenth grade / messiah, famous for acts of attrition.

Hat Shop Girls

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My favorite was a red bowler, a man's hat, which I never dared wear outside my tiny bedroom. My three brothers wanted it too much to take that kind of a risk. They'd poke me with various sharp objects: the serrated edge of the bread knife, the rusted TV

The Way Back Home

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500 miles all the way from Omaha nine hours on the back of a flatbed truck

Courage Under Fire

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Once upon a time, my friend and I met a nanny pushing a baby carriage and reading an e-book. She wore a plaid dress, blue stockings and a white barrette. A set of wrinkles marred her tanned brow. Multitasking seemed too hard on her. Inside the carriage

FREE

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hot, hot

Turtle Summer

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He was her summer fling, the first cock to crow when the sun rose over her tequila smile.

Gabrielle in Arrears

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You should be calling 911

Why'd You Come Back?

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But there, up the street, just coming into the corner of the window, someone was in the middle of the road. Walking literally down the middle, dragging one leg like it was heavy or broken, carving a fat line next to the skinny one the good one made.

Banana Creme Pies for Sixty Percents

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Suddenly the auditory havoc dies down and she falls into a loop, saying BANANA CREME PIES FOR SIXTY PERCENTS over and over.

Squirrel Boy, You Are My Toy

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unbury yourself from the silt and give me some seal love.

Cranshaw on the Road / Chapel Access

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"Why so ornery?" she asked.

~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…

Blowing Up While Fading Out

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It calmed the guilt in my heart while kids reveled, laughed, and "made time" with the neighborhood girls on that final night of freedom. No one would talk to those girls again.

a night on the f'naut

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with images overflowing with delicate thought scenes with nightmarish wet dreams

fc1 (bee boo guy/ valio hansolo)

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poon fred / loop ilo/ bussy yubb tree

Papa's Parrot

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He wasn’t there for the beginning or the end. In the beginning, he was still a wild thing. Nothing more than a voice in the chorus of the Dark Continent, back when it was a thing of terrible beauty and attracted people like the old man; people who breathe

Training Exercise

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The other day I’m in the backyard with one of my kids, doing what he’s calling a training exercise, which is basically the two of us with flashlights, shinning the beams over the grass and up into the night to see what we can see.

Please

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

Non-Stop Service

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Please direct your attention to the flight attendants as they demonstrate the safety features of this aircraft.

You Wear Camo?

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Got me a 50 pound bat ray.

My Relationship With Reading

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What if I said; I never liked actually reading?

Bring Me His Head

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Just bring me his head, that cerebral kiln of hot, ruddy verbiage and cadence.

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!

At Play in the Fields of the Lord

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Rothko explored horizons,/ blurring figure and ground/ by omitting the figure.

... and I liked it!

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... red lipstick shiny in the bar's light, raven-colored hair spiky and toussled. Jen opened her mouth to say something, stickiness of her cherry Chapstick separating with her lips ... and the girl leaned in and started kissing her.

The Great San Francisco Poetry Wars, 19

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His wings were down when he got into the truck. It was a used UPS truck we’d bought from someone in Berkeley, and we painted out the letter “S,” so that it just read “UP.”