Most recent stories

Three Eights

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He fingered his remaining chips and the usual nervousness tingled at his spine.

60 is the new 20

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I once saw a TV commercial that showed a group of Anglo retirees laughing around a card table. The slogan 60 is the new 20 floated beneath their fat, fun-loving heads. My parents are bona fide Baby Boomers. Their lives are build on credit and catchy…

Foundations

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King's splendid stronghold Pressing down the earth below Broken by the grass

Sycamore Tree

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I love you, I said. A beautiful smile struggled through the pain. But I love you more.

Warning: Literary Fiction: The One-Dollar Minister

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It was Warren who introduced me to this bouncer fellow named John O’Toole. Warren met O’Toole and his wife, Angelina, through the dark prison poet Eugene Forcer. Forcer and O’Toole were the best of friends until a riff erupted between them one drunken n

Sleeping Bag Whiskey

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indelicate, as everything arrives at once.

Whale Lessons

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Even if your heart is as large as a small car, your tongue as heavy as two grown men—even then—you will have to carry it with you wherever you go.

Fractional

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Fine gradations of the fractional/ fissure the eggshell whole we crave

Four Days in Singapore

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I’ve lost something at sea / and am at a foreign island to find it.

NYQUIL DREAMS

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The capsules tumble around, one of them plinking against the crown in my upper-right jaw. I hate the crown… a mute reminder of the first time Brad hit me. Swallowing the capsules, my tongue probes the left side of my mouth, finding the other two crowns…

Changeling

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Birdhouses

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That year, if you asked Al, was truly the best of times, the worst of times.

Eucalyptus

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It had all been for the children, hadn´t it?

Sleeplessness

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The retina was burning, the liquid had dried up, and the veins bursting. My eyes bled. But I kept them open. The sound was like nails on glass, screeching endlessly. Coming close to me louder, harder, faster.

QuaintAugust 2017

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a midge smothered in the light of disarray crawls back into the sage

Black Malibu

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The boys back in the rental office must be wondering why we haven’t left yet. Maybe they thought we just wanted to sit in the car and listen to music.

Red Can't Even Grab a Starbucks

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I see his look, his impatient look.

The Stuffy Poet

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Getting up and reading his poem The stuffy poet sitting back down On the leather couch, which creaks under his weight After adjusting his narrow tie from the 1980’s The stuffy poet clearing his throat, twice, During an enemy’s reading The s

In the Faraway Places

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It was far away and I don't know how we arrived. There were people about that were involved in getting boats into the water or else playing sports games atop green hills. They told me I should go out in a boat with this guy and that he would take me around the island. I…

No Algebra Again Today Haiku

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Our lives depend on/ engineers

Asking an Accomplished Poet Friend to Read My Poetry in a Starbucks at 2PM on a Thursday

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Your usage of the English language / is awkward and passé—

He'd Risen Up

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“Where did this come from?” Greenblatt snapped as he pulled a pamphlet from his coat pocket with the words “Jews for Jesus” on it.

Float to Water

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I don’t remember the name of the boy in high school or if I cried at his funeral

Friends

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“Hi. I’m Rita Bates,” I had said. “Can I sit here? The boy who introduced himself as Thomas told me I could, so I did, and his friends all introduced themselves in turn. Around the table there was Bev, Ernest, someone whose name started with an F – maybe

Life Support

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Here's how it works. The clock in my therapy office ticks off the minutes I get to spend talking with each patient, forty-five in and out, regardless of the amount of distress. Less distress has the option of being shoved out earlier but…

The Good Old Days

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What she didn't tell me was that her brother Carl got fried during an electrical storm.

~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…

The Stairway (Short Story Excerpt)

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Leaves clouded the air and piled in great brown heaps like rotted snow on the old Maine road, disturbed for the first time in months by a lone, black SUV. It plowed its way slowly across the asphalt, the black surface cracked and hoary with years of neglect, past…

Gomalco, Inc.

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“You've got to be kidding me. A robot?”, said Marge as she rotated in the chair at her desk. She removed the leaf of paper from the typewriter and set in down on the desk. She looked up at Parkins who was leaning against the wall nursing a cold cup of…

Thank God for Kids — by Comparison, I'M 'Adult'!

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[NOTE: PLEASE DEFER READING THIS UNTIL YOU'VE COMPLETED THE 'MONAD' (OR 'MILESTONE') YOU'VE NEEDED TO! THANKS! BE FOREWARNED!]