Most read stories

And We Sell Apples 1977

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I hear the car door slam. Steve, about to duck daddy-duty: Just gonna take a run to the Quickway. "Rudy," I say, "go get in the car. Tell Papo I said Wait."

Playing Possum

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"You're going to have to call me 'dead eye' after I get this possum."

The Leg

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They all looked for Vic's leg after the accident.

Things Worth Saving

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It felt like I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be, like I’d walked into a house that looked like mine, but belonged to someone else.

SUPER DAD flies coach

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“I don’t want to scare you,” the stewardess says, “but there are ten police officers waiting for you outside the plane.” I reach into the diaper bag and grab an Elmo raspberry/pear cereal bar, rip it open, take a bite, sip some apple juice fr

Paper Horse

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The trouble with paper horses was not how flimsy they were when you were flying them, reigns in hand, high enough above the treetops that falling would mean more than a bruised knee.

'Bout Apples

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Sawyer walked toward the lone house with the sentinel trees. Behind him there were no tracks in the snow.

My Bed Loves Me

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Above-board, we sail

A Momentary Lapse

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She picked the perfect white wine that she poured in the carafe early to give it ample time to breathe before the guests arrived. She thought of everything. The first course would be Asian Carrot-Ginger soup with black sesame seeds and diced green onion

Blind

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In this coaly no-time/ strewn with fallen stars,/ you are a roaming panther/ and I am a tangle of snakes.

Milton wrote his best lines blind

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the unhealthiness of obsession and control until the lines burn bright

I Saw God in a Wheelchair

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I saw God sobbing in a wheelchair His legs didn't work and He had no hair I saw God sobbing in a wheelchair Nobody else was there Nobody stopped to stare Nobody seemed to care

The Damp Place

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As long as he could still take the stairs, he would go down there to be with the memories that each piece held. He knew that their time was about up, because his was too. His wife had already gone, and even before that she had long stopped using the washe

Opening Line

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I cannot read one more award winning novel by a female Asian author about the atrocities committed against their childhood, she thought. Then she sat down with her trusty yellow pad and Papermate fineline to write the next lyrical story of a female Asian writer and the…

Silent Summer

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It's eerie. There are no birds. My friend and I take our morning walk in a bubble of silence.

SantaBot, Can You Hear Me?

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Mimi: Santa, I am so down with taking a number, but I really can't have you reading that particular story. Santa: Let me be the judge of that. I am Santa. I give presents to kids.

If This Were Baltimore

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If This Were Baltimore East A spray of change in the lilies and loose rubber, she pulled close to the wall. She smiled at the trucks, her handful of loot. Hallelujah, he said, converting. West Like 4 miles of cakes, they counted…

Jelly Doughnuts (from The New Yorker)

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Simmi's only been in New York three weeks, but the second night she was here Buck took her to a coffee place he knew, and now Simmi makes sure he takes her there every night...

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.

Autumn

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The leaves are telegrams sent from the branches to the wind, saying, “it's over stop don't send kisses stop forget me.”

The Astigmatism Of The Human Genome Project

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G 20/200 …

Jesus Had a Tat

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Jesus Freaks will go tat head... crowns of thorns for their noggins and so on. Christ had one too...

Splinter Off

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When we lived in the attic we were make-believe.

Fragment

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see the man

Adrift

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Picking up a perfect stranger—perfect meaning dead, in this case—and shaping him into the man you’d want him to be is not so easy.

Capture This Thing

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Take it from inside you and draw it out. Do it before it decides you are not what you seem to be and, as a result, holds you up by the thumbs.

The Lateness of the Night Lies Dreaming

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Your finger quivers as it writes Upon me words in water, Words I cannot read nor drink But feel them as you drink Them with your tongue

Hometown News: The Ballad of Ray and Rose

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There’s an old journalism adage, usually uttered by editors who haven’t had their butts out of a comfy leather newsroom chair in years, which goes: “You know… the news just doesn’t walk in the door.” ... But sometimes, it does.

Luminous Nights

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A great doubt had shut out the light inside us, but each of us called for our lover at the end, and she was generous. Carrying us along inside her over vast distances, chilling our soul with sudden terrible flashes of light.

An Old Sweet Song

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Rob thought he might even make it. He'd stopped off south of Seattle, in Kent, and filled up the tank and went back in the can and topped off again. He got back on the road, to all appearances blase, blase. The montages were muted, at least for…