Most read stories

Color Wheel

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I remember the tan guinea pig, dead of dehydration. Through the wire bars of her cage I viewed her body. She lay stiff on her side, stretched out, as if in her guinea-pig dream she had been running through grassland, open and close to the sky.

Self-Portrait of Someone Else (excerpt)

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Recently I think I became someone else. When the alarm clock rings in the morning, it sounds sharper than usual; getting up, my feet don't seem to quite touch the floor; looking into my bathroom mirror, my face seems to be melting, sliding, my eyes dri

Clouds to the Makers

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You'll be gone. I'll be gone. I'd hate to think how it was all for nothing, that all we did was stumble into a pretty big hole of our own making. The best place for a broken heart after all is in your own sweet chest. No one else…

Shadow Man

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Words are not like bricks. The neighborhood flowers from within the rituals that enframe the drinking of a macchiato in a café. Now it hovers over the page.

Valentine's Day: Say it with Chickens

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Love at first sight? Not for me.

Dakar 1989

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Everyone runs to the plane but me. I get the last seat (middle of 5), crush men’s bags on my way. I’m white & female. They glare.

The Front Window at Starbucks, NYC

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His eyes drift over the body of every woman who enters Starbucks, even though he’s old enough to be their father or grandfather, still his eyes are aware of every shape passing by, refusing to let go, and die. Maybe they’re speaking Polish or

He Holds an Expired Visa and a Monday Grudge

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Somehow the world survives

a night on the f'naut

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with images overflowing with delicate thought scenes with nightmarish wet dreams

Wings

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The trouble began in October, when Ava, an embittered receptionist who worked at a small museum housed in a five-story Westside brownstone, discovered that the floors were littered with enormous grey feathers

What the Father Said

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At night, instead of sleep, there were new and secret pleasures. Half-awake lessons in dexterity, in the limber material of human life.

Obituary

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Patrick Savage, who has died aged 29, was a poker player fast on his way to becoming a cult figure in the music scene.

Rule Out Euthymia

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In her belief that Juni is lucky, Jade eases the horrors our mother suffers at night, not because Juni is stuck in a physical passion, but because the whole family and whole groups of strangers know what Juni is doing for sex.

Phantasmagoria

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I sit in my chemise like a forgotten rag doll on the stool before my vanity. My body is postured towards nothing in particular, my gaze keeps returning to vacant; it’s far preferable to any fixed sight it could find.

Half a Lotus

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An Ayurvedic astrologer tells her that she is a child of India. Is a girl born in Indiana a mistake of just two letters on a Scrabble board?

Time

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Tell Bono I want my seventy bucks back.

Bad Attitude

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Start with a long look down the alley, a small hoodied figure turning in.

Non-Stop Service

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

There's No Crying in Poetry

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There’s / no crying in poetry!” says Coach / Bukowski

Turtle Summer

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

Poets House, NYC (revised)

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Oh, you can’t stay, your poetry/ Is still out in the world, maybe when you die/Your volumes will make their way/Not just here but everywhere

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.

moving forward

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see this:/ ink-stained paper/ littering miles

Channel Zero

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A killer enters the room. No one notices, and the show goes on.

The New Meow

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I'm delighted to report that I've come up with my own school of thought. It's called, "Dress Like a Cat Until You Get What You Want."

Without Consent

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You never thought you were capable of rape.

Don't Wash, Don't Tell

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Butch the Labradoodle sets some necessary boundaries.

The MacGowans Flee West

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Some believe the Scots were encouraged to emigrate, hired guns as it were, to Ireland to civilize that population. If that's the case, we would see it as another evil English trick. In any case, we MacGowans are Scots Irish and Protestant.

The Serious Writer and His Penis

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Only strong personalities can endure such size, the weak ones are extinguished by it.

Amoco Cadiz

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She'd liked the name of the tanker. The Amoco Cadiz.